As Mello looked into the mirror, half disgusted of the ever present scar marring the left side of his face, he wondered briefly at what he had become. A monster? It was possible, he had definitely done enough in his short life to haunt many a person's nightmares. Still, was he really that bad? Could anyone truly blame him for all he had done, so blinded by his goals and anger towards the world that was coming undone around him. Justice had been replaced by senseless murder, his hero dead by the hands of some faceless force the world had come to call Kira, a savior and god to cowards, and him, alone having given up everything he had once possessed and still not quite good enough. Praying on a rosary, confessing in an empty church, asking for forgiveness from people and things he had forsaken not long ago… Yet, he knew his soul was still tainted and rotting inside. Wrath,, greed, pride, and envy… perhaps even lust if bloodlust counted… more than half of the seven deadly sins, he'd be damned regardless of his penance if God wouldn't forgive him.
He touched the scar, not bothering to be gentle as he did so. It had been so long since he had last truly felt something. He was little more than a walking corpse for the past four years, just pushing on and not allowing himself to die, but now at least he could feel the pain. All he had lived on was chocolate, ambition, and pride He felt a bit more human, a bit more alive. It was odd, that he could find such reassurance in this simple feeling. At least knew he wasn't unknowingly living in his own personal hell with no way out. Not dead yet, and hopefully he'd be able to at least somehow repay for his mistakes, make himself a hero of sorts, someone who actually did something that mattered for good reasons.
So, with a final glare into the cracked mirror, Mihael Keehl stood, smirking at the thought of him being a hero. Well, the world was a twisted place after all. If Kira was god, who would make a better antichrist than Mello? Yes, that was exactly what he would be. Whether he had fallen from grace or been reborn from the ashes, he'd be an avenger. For lost innocence, life, and beliefs. The fight wasn't over yet. There was still someone he could call upon should the need arise, someone he happened to miss dreadfully. Sad, they could not reunite under happier circumstances, but he could not do this much longer if he didn't at least try now. Picking up a phone, he dialed a number only he knew… After all he had managed to steal the old cell phone years ago as a present for his best friend's birthday. "This way we can always stay in contact, no matter what. " He'd remembered saying one February afternoon. He had left his own back in his old room at Wammy's, but he could recall Matt's number. Surely, the other still had his and hadn't forgotten it. Pack rat as he was, Matt would never give up the phone, right? He sighed punched in the number and waited… once a best friend always a best friend.