Title: Second Best
Author: Duplicitous
Summary: It had been a stupid idea, but now that he was here, Mello found he couldn't just turn around and leave, that would be admitting defeat, something Mello was not capable of, he had never bowed to Near, his rival and he sure as hell wouldn't bow to this man. AU after L's death.
Rating: PG-13 for language and future violence
Disclaimer: Not mine *hides from copyright police* I was just… um… borrowing it *nods*
Author's Notes: A little something we came up with while bored. It was on our computer and so we kinda just went through and edited it a bit and put it up. It may possibly be expanded beyond a one shot, should we ever get time (or inspiration *hint* *hint*). Reviews are also very luffly.
Second Best
Mello hated lines, he hated waiting and he hated being ignored. It had been thirty minutes since he had arrived, and he had yet to meet the owner of the rather dumpy office he was occupying. The whole place smelled like mildew and dry rot, and had a rather dilapidated, outdated look to it. The paint job screamed 70s and the furniture just made Mello want to scream. If Matt were here he would probably have some sort of witty comment about it, something that calmed Mello's nerves, but as it was he wasn't here, and so long as he hadn't done something incredibly stupid, he was still at Wammy's. Safe. One of the lights was flickering, combined with the constant low buzzing it should blow any—and there it went, plunging the left-hand corner of the room into darkness, not that Mello really minded, at least it was quieter now.
An hour into his stay and Mello was almost ready to start pacing; he craved chocolate and wanted more than anything to do something. He needed action; he lived for it. The longer he sat the more his thoughts turned to Near, to the investigation and to—catching himself Mello closed his eyes. His entire body was tense and he wanted out. More and more coming here seemed like a bad idea, a very poorly thought out, very bad and rather hasty idea. Perhaps he should have spent more time on the identity. He had worked for almost a month getting the paperwork together, had wormed his way into the United States databases and created everything he could think of. Maybe claiming to be eighteen had been a bit of a stretch, but really, he'd already grown as much as he was likely to, and dressed as he was, he could easily pass as some college kid, no one should have any reason to suspect anything. He'd even left all the chocolate at his flat in attempt to appear more grown up, more mainstream.
An hour and half in and he was beyond pissed. He's filled out his paperwork, he'd been bloody approved by the warden himself, he even had the fucking papers to prove it. What was holding them up? He should have been issued a visitor's pass and ushered on with much less fuss. He had read the rules, and was following them to the letter, he wore a simple shirt and jeans, he didn't have any sort of weapon on his person, he was respectable, and goddamn it and he wanted to get out of the bloody office.
Two hours of waiting and Mello had had enough. He stood up and was about to leave when the door opened silently on greased hinges. The a man walked in. "Mr. Harding, I presume," he asked without once looking away from the small stack of papers in his hands, "I trust you weren't waiting too long, were you?" Mello bristled. He hated this man, absolutely loathed him. If it weren't for the general principle, he would have put the guys name and face up for Kira in a heartbeat, unfortunately Mello needed him, at least for today, and so burying his feelings with practiced ease he looked over at the prison officer, blandly noting the name, Jeffery Banners, on his security badge.
"Not at all officer, I trust all the paperwork checks out," he asked innocently, oozing concern and mild interest out of his every pore. The man smiled stiffly, his eyes somewhat narrowed as he gave Mello a once over, comparing the picture on the paper, clipped to the front of the stack, to the young man sitting in front of him. Mello wanted to roll his eyes, but managed to keep himself in check. They had asked him to provide a picture of himself, of course it would look like him, the security in this place seemed almost laughable, on the surface at least.
The officer, Jeffery Banners, smiled thinly. "Everything seems to be in order," he gritted out, his distaste for Mello obvious in even the inflection of his voice, Mello inwardly smirked, the feeling being mutual, "though," the officer paused for effect, probably, Mello reflected, just to see if he would squirm, "you do seem a bit young."
Mello did all in his power not to let out the smirk, his body becoming very tense. He would have been concerned, but the fact that the officer was mentioning it now was more than likely just to gauge his reaction, if the officer could have done something to Mello, he would have already. Choosing not to reply, Mello just smiled slightly, his eyes twinkling in dark amusement.
The entire facility was appalling, Mello decided. The walls were splotched and stains covered every surface, it was impossible to tell what the original color had been, or if had just been unpainted cinder block. There were cells, but most of them were for lower security inmates, large bunkrooms, shared by hundreds if not more prisoners, and fairly open as far as jail cells went. Mello was lead to a small room. Three walls were steel reinforced concrete, the final, a single sheet of reflective glass, which Mello was willing to bet was the single strongest part of the room, paranoid bastards that the architects seemed to be. He wondered how many listening devices they had besides the obvious ones littered on the undersides of most of the surfaces.
His escort pushed him rather roughly through the door. He glared at Mello and spat out, "You should feel lucky kid, we don't usually let non family members visit the special cases, especially not them in the Big House. If the warden wasn't feeling so generous likes, you'd be left outside on your pretty little ass, so I'd be real careful if I was you, yeah?" Mello resisted the urge to punch the guy. He may have come off as a bit curt when he had initially demanded a visit, but it had been a very rough week. It wasn't as if anyone here was really doing him any favors, the warden would have jumped on any opportunity to better understand the prisoner Mello wished to visit, as he doubted the man had changed much in the years they'd last seen each other, B was never really into humoring those he viewed as less intelligent than himself, at least not without incentive.
Jeffery left after failing to illicit a response from Mello, ordering two of the guards to search him again. Mello was starting to really empathize with most murders as his esteem for humanity in general plummeted at the man's obviously juvenile behavior, but not really wishing to see how much it would take to get them to kick him out, he settled for muttering obscenities under his breath as he allowed the guards to search him again, in case he had managed to snag any contraband items between when he had been searched upon entering the prison and that moment. They found nothing, not that they could have if he had really wanted to hide something.
Not two minutes later, the door on the far side of the room opened up. A rather ragged looking man was brought in, about five years older than Mello himself, he was easily over 165 cm and though longer, his dark black hair still remained painfully similar to that of L. Mello flinched slightly, willing himself to look not at the similarities, too numerous to count, but at the differences, the more drawn, angular lines of the face, the glowing red eyes, smoldering with anger or some other emotion that Mello couldn't quite make out, the aura the man projected. L had been apathetic in appearance, looking to all the world like a lazy college kid, B radiated power, menace and purpose. His mannerisms were the same, but the reasons behind them differed, B was dangerous, and looked it, even dressed as he was in a prison uniform with his hands bound behind his back. After the guards left he looked at Mello, judging him and accusing him. For nearly ten minutes the two stared at each other, all words had long since abandoned Mello. "Long time no see," the other man whispered, a faint smile on his lips.
Mello glared at him, it had indeed been a while, they hadn't talked since B had left, not long after A's funeral. It had been well over five years. Mello didn't really remember what he had planned on saying, why he had decided to come here. It had been a crazy idea, it wasn't like he even really liked B all that much. He had forgotten how irritating the other could be, with the way he imitated L all the time, the way he liked to play with words, how he never got to the point, at least not very quickly. It had been a stupid idea, but now that he was here, Mello found he couldn't just turn around and leave, that would be admitting defeat, something Mello was not capable of, he had never bowed to Near, his rival and he sure as hell wouldn't bow to this man, a mere imitation of L. Glaring over at the other man Mello managed in a remarkably even voice that even surprised him a bit, "So it has, Beyond, I trust by now you've heard, or at least inferred the fate of our illustrious… forbearer." B inclined his head marginally in what Mello assumed was assent.
B sat down in one of the two chairs in the room, brining his legs up in a manner identical to L's, though his hands remained chained behind him. "While regrettable, it was far from unanticipated," he chuckled, "he was no faultless god, and his tactics could be quite reckless. I realize that this could greatly influence your future, but really, I fail to see why this could possibly concern," B looked up and into Mello's eyes for the first time in their conversation, "me. After all," he continued, "I am an outcast, I chose to leave and turned to a life of crime, in turn I stay here to repay what I owe society for my heinous transgressions."
Mello glared at him, and if not for the people undoubtedly watching him he would have decked the other man, handcuffed or not. He knew B wasn't thick enough to believe the nonsense he was spewing, he knew Beyond was fully aware of why he was here, the bastard just wanted Mello to swallow his pride and admit that he needed help, not that Beyond would have any intention of helping. Mello wished that he could have some fucking privacy in which to talk with B, not that would ever happen here. It was just so frustrating to have to dance around what he was trying to say and hope that the other understood. Stupid damn guards and their listening devices and stupid B for ever getting caught, no one opposed L and got away with it, and in the end even Kira would fail, Mello would make sure of it.
As if turning a switch, Mello smiled and pushed all his anger down, now was not the time or the place to loose his temper. "B," he began calmly, "I need you're help. I don't think I can do this on my own, and," he paused, wondering how to phrase, 'I need someone as intelligent and sophisticated as you to help me beat the crap out of Kira, and oh, by the way if you agree I'll get you out of this stupid prison', for some reason he didn't think saying it would go over very well with the guards, and knowing them, they probably had some egotistical analysts with them already dissecting the conversation, "I…" Mello couldn't think of what to say, or rather how to phrase it , while he had learned a lot of useful stuff, even some code at Wammy's, never once had there been any training for alerting mass murdering criminals that you planned to rescue them while being overheard by the bloody prison warden himself. No, Wammy's certainly hadn't prepared for every eventuality. Deciding to just make something up on the fly, and hope that B understood it, Mello continued, "If you can help me organize my thoughts on the matter of my brother and father's deaths, I will arrange for suitable compensation, if and when you are finally released from prison."
Beyond smirked slightly, the glee evident in his eyes, though Mello had to admit, the man had gotten much better at barring emotion from his face, "Suitable compensation, and what, pray tell me, would that be, sugar free cookies? You know as well as I do that I won't be getting out any time soon. Or is there something you would like to share with me, new evidence proving my innocence?" Mello gritted his teeth. It seemed B suspected what Mello was trying to say, but still, it was rather annoying.
Letting some of his frustration through Mello retorted, "If you just got over your bloody ego already and cooperated they might let you out early for good behavior, think about it, all you need to do is listen to them, do what they ask of you, it would make life a lot easier. Believe it or not B, the whole world doesn't revolve around your whims." And with that Mello decided he had had enough and turned to leave. B would know what he meant to say, and he would visit again once he had the details in place, looking over his shoulder, he and B locked eyes momentarily and B inclined his head slightly, amusement clearly shining through. These would be an interesting next few days.
Mello was escorted quickly through the wide corridors to the front desk where his wallet, cell phone and watch were returned to him. Pocketing them, he made his way back to the bus station, near the prison entrance, flipping the phone open and closed and trying to decide the most innocuous place to loose it. While he couldn't guarantee they'd bugged his things, there was no reason to believe they hadn't. after all, not that many people come asking to speak to one of the most hushed up serial murderers in the state of California when they were 't even related. Chances were rather high the warden suspected Mello of something, and while he had yet to do anything illegal in the states yet, under his current name, besides creating the identity itself, he would rather not take chances.
After wiping the little information actually on the phone, really all it contained was the number for Pizza Hut and a few made up numbers of friends and family, he allowed it to fall out of his pocket while sitting on the bus. By the time he was back in his room, the phone had been picked up by some enterprising person and had likely already been sold. It was a good thing that it wasn't registered to his name or bank account.
As soon as he got back to his room Mello began to plan. Beyond was currently being held in a maximum-security prison, under constant surveillance. The place relied on technology almost exclusively for maintaining security, but Mello wasn't Matt, and couldn't hack a lighting system from his cell phone. He also didn't have much in the way of contacts here. He'd only really been in the states for a few weeks . What he did have though, were a laptop, a copy of some of L's contacts and a program meant to emulate L's method of communication that Matt had made as part of a school project, while it currently displayed a gothic M, Mello was confident he could alter it.
While impersonating L wasn't illegal per se, it had never been done before, likely because everyone knew the moment they did, the real L would be on their tales. Mello didn't have to worry about that. All he needed was to sort out who would be helpful to him now, and how many of those people would be aware of L's death at Kira's hands.