A/N: The countdown till Halloween has just begun, so here's a fic to commemorate the holiday, the Wammy boys… and one of the most awe-inspiring historical figures to date.

I was originally planning to do a collection of one-shots, but I've decided that a short, multi-chap fic would work better for the plot I had in mind. So now I present to you… this! Enjoy (:

Chapter 1: The Witching Hour

"Matt," Mello said hoarsely. "Come here."

The goggled teen didn't even stir. His rust-colored head was bent reverently over his silent game console; its batteries had unfortunately died a few hours ago. There was no point in replacing them now, not when the hardcore gamer would soon join them in their dormancy.

But Mello didn't need to know that.

Matt continued to pound away at the tiny buttons, visualizing imaginary pixels dancing across the blackened screen.

"Please?"

The redhead finally lifted his face, only to be greeted by Mello's pained expression. "Fine," he muttered, relenting. "But only because you said the magic word."

Mello cracked a brief smile. Matt winced. In the low lighting provided by the myriad of melting candles surrounding the two young men, the blond's scar was more pronounced than ever.

"They say when an atheist prays," Mello murmured, fingering the garnet beads that trailed down his chest, "miracles occur."

"Who was the idiot that made that up?"

Mello didn't answer, but his hardening eyes gave it away. Matt reluctantly sank down to his knees beside his mate with his gloved hands in his lap. Soon, the duo's hushed prayers swept through the bare-walled room like a soft wind. Somewhere nearby, outside in the heart of Tokyo, a bell tower chimed.

Once, twice... five times, six.

Matt wasn't superstitious, but he did like to pretend.

Ten times, eleven.

The witching hour, as the English called it.

Matt found himself drifting off into a place that consisted of secluded, slush-slicked roads and twinkling lights. The electric aura of Japan frightened him; he longed for nothing more than to return to Wammy's once more, where everything was familiar and comfortable and most importantly, far away from NHN and Kira's spokesperson.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our…

Mello's recitations suddenly ceased, and Matt's head snapped up, chastised. "Death," the redhead added hurriedly. "Amen."

His companion's mouth twitched. Whether it was in amusement or scorn, he couldn't tell. "You can't fool me."

Matt was caught off guard. "W-What are you talking about?"

"I know you're getting cold feet."

His throat clenched. "No, you're wrong. I'm just... I'm just scared. Is that a crime?"

"Fear is a luxury we cannot afford," Mello said quietly, climbing to his feet. "But rest assured you will not die."

Matt stared after him balefully, watching his friend's leather-clad back retreat into the next room. "You can't promise that."

The next hour came and went; Matt was trying, but failing, to work up the courage to apologize to Mello. He eventually slumped down against the wall, reaching into his vest for a nicotine fix. He was too emotionally drained to think, let alone speak, yet there would be no rest for him tonight.

Mello was the first to notice that something was off.

When the blond slipped into the room, Matt perked up immediately. Mello's face was a picture of pure bewilderment. He had never seen him like this before, and it scared Matt half to death – although he was already well on his way there.

"What time is it?"

Matt paused to think. "Just after midnight, I suppose."

"Our phones say differently," Mello declared, tossing him a pair of mobiles. Matt rose to his feet and caught both of them against his chest, which, for some reason, was beginning to feel strangely damp and restricted.

Matt's eyes narrowed at the sight of the offending digits displayed. They were stuck one hour behind. "That's funny. I guess you can't even trust technology these days," he mumbled, stuffing the cell phones into his pocket. Then he frowned, wiping his sweaty palms on the side of his jeans. "Is it just me, or is it getting kind of warm in here?"

"It's just you," Mello started to say, but then stopped. "You're right. The heater's probably broken again. This is a condemned apartment, after all."

As if to prove the genius' statement, a diminutive rattling noise issued from somewhere by their feet.

"See?"

Just at that moment, Matt's eyes widened. He dove for Mello's Beretta, which currently perched atop the makeshift cardboard table in the centre of the room. With a snarl, he swung the weapon toward his friend's direction.

Mello recoiled in shock. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he roared.

"Saving your life," Matt growled, and he promptly emptied the gun.

The opposite wall was instantly sprayed with bullets; bits of plaster flew into the air along with dust, blood...

…and one very large, very dead horned viper.

Mello let out a string of curses. "Since when does Japan play host to African snakes?" the blond panted harshly, stepping over the bleeding serpent to join Matt's side.

The goggled teen shook his head wordlessly, opting to point at the curtained windows instead.

Mello took the hint and yanked the moth-eaten sheets apart. Hot, blinding light flooded the previously dark room, rendering the stubs of flickering candles useless. Matt tore off his goggles in shock, peering out of the suddenly glassless window.

What used to be a sprawl of glowing, neon-colored buildings and shimmering streets had become an expanse of sand and water.

A/N: Hmm, does anyone know where I'm going with this? Hint: subtract 3333 from the year 2010.

Reviews would be awesome :D