Warnings: spoilers, twisted timeline, coarse language, violence, gore, rape, Yaoi, AU
Summary: When the path of a detective meets that of an equally stoic assassin, L only sees another possible addition to his 'team'. A psychopathic rival finds it the perfect opportunity to bring down L once and for all. AU. Yaoi
A/N: Okay, before this story even begins, I want to make a few things clear. First of all, this is an AU story as in an Alternate Universe where the original storyline doesn't follow but will contain several, if not all, characters from the original series along with OC's. Elements from Another Note, a novel about the Los Angeles BB murders, will also be used and chapter end A/N's will clarify on these elements.
This is a really different spin but I've wanted to put it down on paper – figuratively – for a long time. Enjoy. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
ACHILLES' HEEL
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- 'You said you were immortal.'
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- Prologue
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Barely alive, barely breathing. His fingers like lead, heavy as he tried to raise them and reach out to…who? He didn't know. None of it made sense. It was dark and the ground under was warm. He'd lost count of how long he'd been lying there. It seemed like days. The bruises stung afresh, creeping up his neck and thighs like thorns, digging deeper into the numbness washing over him.
The moon hung in the dark velvet of sky, the stars dimmed out by the streetlights.
'I don't remember anything. 'I'll get up now.' He didn't move.
There was a movie in his head, looping, painfully repeating with each shallow heart beat.
He remembered everything, every small detail.
Every shift of the wind, every motion, every sound, every blinding flash of pain. The heavy cologne and the faint whiff of stale beer. The rough hands. Pulling off his scarf, then the jacket, then the shirt. Rough hands, skilled hands. Breaking him slowly, piece by piece.
Warm breath against the side of his face. "What a pretty boy. So…perfect. Better than the others. Better than the others."
"S-s-stop," he had tried to sound hostile, "S-stop… I'll-"
"Shut the fuck up, kid. A pretty face but an annoying voice. I'll shut you up…."
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The phone was ringing.
His eyes jerked open to meet those of Misa-Misa, scantily clad in the poster plastered to the ceiling. The digital clock on the dresser read a blurry 4:56 and the light peeking through the blinds were that of a streetlight.
It took him a few moments to stop the erratic breathing and a bit more to let his heart go back to its steady ba-dum.
The phone rang again.
'Fuck,' he growled internally, untangling himself from the sheets and sitting up. He reached over, flipped open his cellphone and put it to his ear. The words left his mouth smoothly, well-practiced. "Hachi's pizza. May I take your order?"
"That's getting really old, Kira," came the purred reply through the static. In fluent English.
He sat up straighter, fully awake. "You'd think a woman of your age would have more sense." He was equally fluent, if not more composed and icy.
"Watch your mouth, darling, you could get yourself in a lot of trouble, if you know what I mean." This was followed by a girlish giggle.
"I know very well what you mean and frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."
"Gone with the Wind, Light? That's…sentimental of you."
"What do you want, Winfred?" He exhaled, quietly so she wouldn't hear it, letting the stale air leave is lungs. The PSS silent pistol he'd taken the liberty of getting through airport security was in its place – he could almost feel the cold metal under the pillow.
"It's not a question of what I want; it's more what you desire."
"What are you trying to say?"
A short laugh. "And they call you a genius. Really, Light, you don't have to be a gentleman and pretend nothing's happened – happening."
"See, that's where you're wrong. I'm not pretending."
"What?" He could imagine her eyes, light blue, widened in disbelief. "Last night…I thought…."
"You thought what? That because I slept with you, I was in love with you?"
Her breath seemed to catch.
"Like I said before, a woman your age should have more sense than that. You're a pretty thing and I'm a bored man. And as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing between us but business so I expect your incessant calling will stop."
He hung up, returning the phone to the bedside table, and got up, stretching.
Winfred was nothing short of gorgeous – blonde and busty, curvaceous in all the right places – but she was the clingy type. She didn't know any better; he was the one with all the signals, the half-lidded invitation, brushing his fingers lightly over her lips by 'accident'. He knew the game all too well and that was just another boring night. A one night stand. That's all it was. Simply killing boredom. He was the snake taking back the apple from Eve. A different Eve every night, if need be.
'I need a shower.' He needed to wash the filth off. From the night before. From less than five minutes ago.
Usually self-conscious, in the solace of the three-star hotel room his nakedness didn't bother him at all. The glimmer of his bronze, muscular body in the dim darkness soothed him. The body of a strong, able adult and not that of a pathetic, groveling child. He gave his head a little tap, to ward off any remnants of the dream. It was just a dream, a stupid dream he shouldn't have been having.
Painful memories had a habit of dragging themselves out of the darkness, where they belonged.
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The bathroom was of medium size with polished tiles gleaming in the stark white light. He slipped into the glass cubicle and ran the shower, hot enough to scald skin, not long enough to allow that. A bar of soap, shampoo and a whole scrub over later, he was back in the bedroom. The daily routine: deodorant, a spurt of cologne, blow drying the layers of auburn hair and moussing to perfection. A dark long sleeve, stonewashed jeans and tennis shoes; conservative college student with an air of pretty boy. He smirked, admiring the result in the mirror. Better than the middle aged CEO of two months ago – the makeup was smothering and the suit itchy.
The phone began to ring – a special ring tone. A text message.
'If it's Winfred….' He flipped it open, mentally going through a possible list of uncouth comments.
to-oh 20min
will u play angel?
He flipped the phone shut, narrowing his brown eyes in thought. It wasn't Winfred – she had no place in Japan and was probably fuming over a martini in some European bar. Whoever it was had some nerve, using the hated nickname he'd earned over the years. The scars on his back seemed to sting at the memory and his breath caught painfully in his chest. He closed his eyes, fingers curling tightly around the edge of the dresser. Inhale. Exhale.
'Get a grip.'
A month of no action left him restless. A month without the comfort of the white gloves and the gun in their grasp. Such a month only left more room for things best left forgotten to seep once again into his life, fill in the gaps with their filth. Here was his chance to escape it once again. A challenge from someone with the guts to call him out into the open; it sent a series of involuntary shivers up his neck. Either that or someone who was crazy enough not to care.
In a few moments he had pulled on his coat and packed his duffel bag with the menial things he owned, gun included.
He picked up the hotel room phone and dialed for room service. "This is Takana Juko from room 689."
"Yes, Takana-san?" The woman sounded hesitant. She probably knew who he was or who he claimed to be. Or at least she'd been filled in by his last 'clients' who'd arranged the reservations. She also knew Takana Juko had died three days ago.
"I'd like a taxi be called for me. I'll be leaving shortly."
"Yes, that'll be arranged. We hope you had an enjoyable stay."
"Yes," he lied, "thank you."
"Would you like anything else, sir? Coffee? Black?" She'd remembered his favourite from the day before. She had nearly dropped the drink over the table when he had briefly brushed his fingers across her hand in gratitude.
He chuckled. He'd dazzled her, he remembered. "No, that's quite alright. A taxi would be fine. Oh, but…."
"Yes?"
"I know you're very busy but perhaps you could ensure the taxi arrives on time? As in meet me outside when I'm leaving?" He let the last few words leave his mouth in haste, as if he was desperate to meet her.
"Yes, of course," she replied, too quickly and quietly as he expected.
"Thank you very much, Hansen-san." He quietly put the phone back down, silencing her breathless reply. It was his job to know all the names and keep his own hidden, forever if need be.
Misa-Misa was still smiling from her place on the poster, under which were the smears of blood, barely three days old.
"I'm getting sloppy," he sighed out loud.
The door shut quietly behind him.
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- 'I was fool enough to believe you, even if only for that moment.'
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A/N: Yeah, a pretty long prologue but please do bear with me – I have big plans for this story. Big plans! (:
And for those who aren't sure or don't know, thoughts are in single quotations. Like, 'wow'.
Please review – it helps a lot and makes me work faster to bring you the next and much longer chapter. Till next time.