Summary: Near takes to an intriguing case; persuading a reclusive genius to join him as a detective. But her obsessive hobby and and a less that meritable history may bring a revealer of crimes against a creator. NearxOC
Disclaimer: Death Note ain't mine. Just Lu-Lu!
Chapter One: A Call to Disarm
Tokyo was dark, blackened by the heavy veil of night echoing off skyscrapers and trembling in dark alleys. Few people wandered the streets, either hurried and anxious, or disturbingly sinister. And there are few exceptions to this. One such exception, is Lucy.
To a certified investigator, you would learn she was Lucy Ann Izitawa, child of Kim Izitawa, father unknown. Her address is unknown, and she often frequents the kabuki district at night, stopping to scribble and examine a collection of sketchbooks. She often wears a dark purple coat, worn pants, and worn sneakers. Her hair color is black, her eye color is dark brown, and she appears to show signs of nervousness and rage when she feels her notebooks(stored in a thin drawstring bag that hangs tightly on her back) are at risk of being stolen or ruined. She always carries a duffel bag, evidently due to her homeless lifestyle. Very suspicious.
Of course, Near figured that out with out having to right out stalk her like most would.
With a small click of a block being clipped into place, his eyes strayed away from the photo. His rendering of the area was almost done. He finally clipped a tiny plastic Lego doll into place. Black hair.
"This is our canadite?" he hummed smoothly. He brushed a thumb over the smooth face of the doll. The fake smile matched nothing on Lucy's picture, but it was as close as you got.
"Yes, her mother did answer all the questions we asked accordingly. Her childhood doesn't alter her genius." called out a voice from the TV. The picture was moved over as an officer flashed into view on the screen.
"Was the mother capable of answering said questions responsibly?"
"Of course. But apparently Miss Izitawa was born out of wedlock, since her mother and father never married. She refused to speak of the said father."
"And her current state?"
"Miss Izitawa had left home due to...reoccuring issues with her mother. Her permanent residence is nonexistant."
"Fine. I'll see if I can pick her up tomorrow."
"Understood."
As he vanished from the screen the picture returned to original size. Lucy chewed on her lip in the picture, eyes darting, pace quick in her frozen pose. A final click of a block as Near placed her plastic replica into place. He returned to study to picture.
It had been years since the deaths of Kira, L, and Mello. Near was all alone on this case, but that was to his liking. It meant being able to solve it at its most difficult level, like a video game.
"What are you hiding?"
In the real world, Lucy shivered. The cold nights had grown crueler still.
Tightening her grip on the drawstrings of her bag, she paced quickly down the street. The kabuki district was safer as only actors and old folks frequented it. No thugs down where a rich man could easily arrest them for postponing his show. But Lucy wasn't a criminal. Not at all. But her teeth still gritted, her hands still dug into her skin and and her eyes still narrowed angrily. So why the hell were they bothering her?!
If she could guess, it would have been her mother. Her stinking mother who hadn't even given her the leisure of a welcome home. Who had taken the pleasure of inviting nosey authorities to question her child's odd behavior. Who had never, ever, ever stood up for Lucy. All because of some asswipe of a father who hadn't even bothered to see the woman he knocked up, much less the child. Whatever, she didn't need them. All she needed, was the hobby...
Pulling away to a deserted alcove of a closed outdoor restaurant, she huddled up in her coat and opened Notebook #3. She had noticed something off about Plan 134 and was reticifying the mistake. She flipped pages of instructions, lists and diagrams before finding Plan 134, Diagram 10; subject, bank robbery.
That's right. From when she was still very small, Lucy was obsessed of planning crimes. Never committing them mind you, but the thrill of being a mastermind behind so many plots was exciting. If anyone got a hold of any notebook or any single page, the crime listed could very possibly be done. Not just ordinary schemes. Perfect crimes. Where in the end the criminal got what the wanted and left the investigators rolling hopelessly lost in the decay. Disappearing acts, whodunits, locked doors, they were all so perfect.
Which constantly got Lucy worried.
Suppose someone did get the books? Or maybe even a page? Her hobby-no, her art would be robbed forever. The only possible way of getting it back would mean using one to get it back. And she had already sworn against it. Lucy was true to her word, and refused to break it. So, with the protectiveness of a mother hen, she guarded the notebooks desperately. A few punks had made a snatch at her bag for fun once, but the results were far too painful to make it worth it. Each page was carefully taken care of, for not a note to be out of place, or a late additon awkwardly stuck, or ink smeared and blotted. When it rained she wrapped them in seperate plastic bags and tightened them to her chest. When she got close to fire, she took every precaution before shivering over to the grateful warmth. At night she tucked in her coat, put the notebooks under her shirt, and buttoned up all the way. Even if it meant meager attention to her extra clothes and small utensils and money, protecting the books was worth it.
After fixing the problem in Notebook #3, she tucked it carefully back in order with the others. She sneered as those passing looked and whispered.
"What's she doing here all the time?"
"She never goes to shows, is she a bum?"
"Probably a delinquent..."
Lucy opened her mouth to snarl at the old gossippers until she heard a screech on the road behind her. Panicking for her notebooks safety, she clasped them tightly to her chest and looked at who she was to yell at now.
It was a sleek, black car, expensive looking with one way windows. The logo on the side was unrecognizable to Lucy, it was Latin and Lucy barely learned English. It was of a sword behind a globe, with a set of scales. People hurriedly cleared out at the sight of it and Lucy panicked further. Was it a police car? FBI? A man in a suit stepped out, and Lucy hugged her bag even tighter.
"Miss Izitawa?" Lucy chewed her lip. Damn. Another investigator.
"Who wants to know?" she growled, taking a few steps back and sneering at the well dressed man. He looked back polite and unfazed.
"If you wouldn't mind coming with us-"
"Yes I would mind," she interjected icily, teeth clenched, "I'm not stupid enough to get into some strangers car."
"It is of extreme importance-"
"I don't care if it means the damn Emperor goes gaga. You want something you can tell me here!" she snapped. A faint chuckled sounded from the inside of the car. The car door was slightly ajar, but whoever was inside was shrouded by the inky darkness.
"Very well Miss," sighed the man, obviously flustered, "The Interpol Emergency Council has kept a curious eye on potential assitants to our top investigators. Our research shows that you displayed signs of enhanced intelligence in early years. While we would have taken action earlier, your...disappearance from your mother's home caused difficulties. Then after the Kira incident, we were far too busy to attempt any contact."
"Boo hoo," she sneered, making a face, " Ain't that just tragic. Well listen up. I'm not interested in anything you have to offer, not even if you paid me a billion yen!" she swerved around and proceeded to stomp off. The shocked agent tried again.
"Madam please reconsider!"
"Step down agent."
Both of them turned around at the new voice. A figure, clad in a white shirt and dark pants had stepped out of the car. White hair. Piercing eyes.
"I think I'd better take over from here." spoke Near. Lucy looked incredulously at the man.
Could this possibly be the man they wanted her as a superior?