Truly I have no idea… it's a weird perspective. Definitely propaganda of my own theory on Near and Mello's relationship, professionally and personally. You have my permission to hate it freely.


The gun slid into her ribcage tightly, jammed there roughly as if to rip through her heart without firing a single bullet.

"Looking for me?" he purred into her ear. His act never skipped a beat nor did the gun falter in position while he danced her backwards to a shadowed pillar away from jealous eyes. They were a very pretty couple. He wasn't the only clubber who had eyed her with interest.

She ran her hands down his front, feeling the leather bulge under her groping. "Mighty big of you to make the first move," she said easily, not feeling an ounce of remorse over her eager fondling of the male holding her hostage. They were both consenting adults and keeping up pretenses were necessary. She didn't think he would mind, given that the barrel of the gun now slid slowly up and down her spine. A cold caress meant to remind her who was really in charge.

Oh what a naughty boy this one was, but if he thought she'd be easy, he had another thing coming. Although she liked how he played the game so she asked, "Yeah. What of it?"

He hissed in irritation from behind her, and she laughed at his response. Finally, some entertainment worthy of her attentions.

"Why me?" he asked furiously, pushing the gun into the base of her spine. His other hand crept up her belly, fingers spidering their way around her scantily clad torso and upwards. He pinched her nipple hard when she didn't answer and had let herself just enjoy the moment.

"Same taste in men?" she haughtily replied, even as her body ached to twist in his arms so she could see his face, actively take him and show him how good it could be.

His mouth pressed against her neck and he bit her. Hard enough to leave his mark. She gasped and did twist at the cheap shot. She had him pressed against the pillar and a gun nestled under his chin before he could wipe the stunned look off his face.

She had read him from across the room. Males. They were all the same. No fashion sense or imagination. Guns could be hidden in the strangest of places. Although she had expected a bit more from this fool. She gave his skin-tight leather get-up a pointed look before saying, "You should have known better."

"Is that so?" he smirked before grabbing her ass and pulling her close. Bare skin on bare skin flushing in reaction but not before they'd taken measure of the damage. Gun to belly… gun to carotid artery… a stalemate.

"So you like it rough then?" she asked irritably, wondering where to go from here. She still felt turned on by the interaction, but her interest was cooling rapidly. This vapid exchange was losing heat when she'd rather just get to the main objective.

He smiled beautifully up at her. The only warning before his mouth connected with hers, tongue suggestively inviting her to press her luck. She wasn't dumb and pushed him off her. "In your dreams, asshole!" Her gun slammed into his neck hard. The bruise looking perversely erotic on his pale neck, and she had put it there. "You knew I was here for you. How?"

"Do I look like your type?" he asked, his hands lazily roaming her body. His gun magically hidden away. "I prefer short, skinny genius freaks…" He let the insult hover between them, involving himself in counting her bare ribs with his fingertips while she processed his response.

She should have known. The truth of his words settled on her with ease. She was surrounded by idiots. Every last one of them. Two intellectuals of this caliber didn't let their emotions rule their behavior, and yet they had all believed the lie. Or had. Why had she followed this one to the club? Female intuition? A sixth sense of knowing what persons are a danger to her client. Any reason would do. Any way she dissected it, she had been played.

"You manipulative pricks!" she said, pulling out of his embrace and turning to walk away.

He grabbed her arm, and actually had the decency to look remorseful. "You didn't know?"

"Of course not! That brat doesn't offer us anything but orders," she explained, yanking her arm free and pushing him with both arms that he fell backwards, nearly tossed on his backside. He steadied himself against the pillar before chasing her through the gyrating couples.

"Wait!" he yelled, like just another love-struck fool in a crowded room. Still, she heard him over the frenzied music and white noise created by so many people packed into a small open space. She didn't slow her speed until she could breathe the cold air outside and gain semblance of her spinning head.

He followed her, standing by her but not invading her space again. "How did you find me?" The curiosity in his voice unmistakably visible for her benefit.

"He keeps records on all of you," she provided hatefully. "We aren't all fools. I am expected to protect him. How can I if I don't know everything?" She would like to walk off. This night fed by lies, denial and ignorance only further fueled her need for action. She should head back to headquarters as quickly as she can and just forget that once again she's simply a tool.

In every way.

"You remind him of me," he said in her defense, sensing her wounded pride. Sexually aggressive, meticulously observant, and blonde! Near picked each team member for a purpose. "Fuck him! You found me on your own."

She wanted to be petty. She could see the sympathy in his eyes, but she now knew the why of the scheme. Near had chosen her because she was the perfect catharsis to Mello's mad schemes. She was to temper the beast, rein him in and manipulate him too.

"How often do you go whoring? Haven't you anyone to keep you warm at night," she asked, hoping to steal a few more moments of introspection without his pitying looks making her angry all over again.

"Company's company," he answered. "With a face like this, you think I'm ever alone?" His pretty smile forced her to take his outstretched hand.

"Cocky bastard, aren't you?" she laughingly replied. "No wonder he likes you from afar. You'd eat him alive."

He coyly slid an arm around her waist in answer, walking them raggedly through the street to his bike. "Get on," he commanded, "and quit being so fucking cynical!"

She laughed again then and positioned herself behind him on the motorcycle. The motor revved and she yelled over its roar, "My place or yours?"

"Yours," came the faint reply as they barreled down the road. He didn't ask for directions and she had known he wouldn't need any. She was a professional at this pretense.

Faking it.

These boys had no idea the depth of deception needed to pull it off. If they had thought to pretend their way into her confidence, they had overestimated their talents. She was certain after tonight she would have both their undivided attentions. She had spilled SPK secrets without guilt. She was being used, but for what reason… well now… that was the only cause that really mattered.