Hi my fellow Dark Knight and/or Shinigami fans! I've been wanting to write something like this for a while, based on the whole L = Greatest Detective, Batman = Greatest Detective. Given that Batman is masked and unknown to the public, he's got to be a good match for Kira. I'm trying to stay as true to both series as possible. Inspirations from the Batman perspective are Arkham Asylum (game and comic) as well as the films (he's not so esablished yet, still and urban myth) and Light has yet to meet Misa. This may be a disaster, or a stroke of genius, but here is Chapter 1 of Winged Justice, enjoy :)
The scream was ear-piercing, but no-one heard. And the pain, the pain was blinding. He was only eighteen. He was raised in a good family. His father was a train driver, his mother a librarian. He understood his homework, knew his subjects back to front. But peer pressure is a dangerous thing in this city. He'd pick up his homework, and tossed it aside when he got home. The allure of life on the other side was too much for him to handle. He was athletic enough. All that was required of him was to not ask questions, and throw a few fists at whatever low-life caused his boss any hassle. He'd spend his nights in clubs, helping the pushers persuade the more reluctant young buyers. For four months, that nagging voice in the back of his head told him, karma would come and get him – all of them – for what they do. For the kind of things they've been doing for four months now.
He remembered the first girl who overdosed in front of him, four months ago. It was nightmarish, demonic. Her eyes glazed over as her back arched and her limbs twitched; there was a sort of mucus pouring out with her blood, as it trailed down her cream face, causing him to feel fear, and revulsion. The others did nothing for her - a few laughed. Two of the older guys picked her up, took her to the next room; grins of pure evil etched across their broad faces. They were in that office room for twenty minutes. He knew what they were doing. They liked it when the girls didn't fight back. They were in control. A few hours later, he was on his way home, and saw her body in the alleyway. No skirt, no underwear, blood everywhere. Her face still looked out to him. He could still see her dream-like complexion. He read in the paper the next day; the girl was found at about six in the morning. She was only fifteen. The money kept him in with that crowd. But a part of him knew he would pay for crimes like this.
And so he did. Hell made him pay; made them all pay. It sent a demon up for them. Hundreds of people danced their souls away in that club of sin. While those who helped ran it, they had to cater for the demon. He didn't even see it come for them, not until it was too late. Upon the glass top roof it spread its foul wings of darkness. Those eyes, those horrible white eyes; they carried the vengeance of the young girl with them. The beast bore down upon them with unholy justice. Like the wind, it swept through the room, consuming all who opposed it in a cloak of shadow, leaving whoever it got a wreck of fear on the floor beneath it. It would glide from victim to victim; each would cry for mercy, the demon did not comply. Finally it turned to him.
If only he stayed at home, and studied for his final exams. If only he helped that girl. If only he'd have tried to stop all this. As the shadow bore down upon him, he remembered his father saying to him that this city was sick, and if his son stayed with this gang, he'd be a part of the disease. He was a virus, a disease of crime. And the city was to be cured of him. His scream was ear-piercing, but no-one heard.
"Overdid it a bit." Bruce sighed to himself. The boy was a teenager, and didn't even try to fight back. Still, Carlos' gang couldn't go on like this. This kid knew what would happen if they kept pushing in this club. Too many minors here. Carlos had to be stopped, tonight, lest another kid would die.
Reaching down to one of the dealers, he found a small bag of blow. Placing his finger inside, he licked the small dot of powder left on it. It was one hell of a compound, he thought, as he spat on the floor with disgust. Still, he could relax, there was no taste of anything too lethal – at least Crane hadn't been a part of its production.
He leapt across the beams of the night-club, as the youth of Gotham danced their hearts out, unbeknownst that its mythical beast was bearing down on the owner, justice blazoned in his eyes.
Inside the office, Carlos sat with a fiendish grin on his face. One greasy slim arm around a young girl – he'd guess no older than sixteen, whilst her cousin's head bobbed up and down on his lap. Stroking her frizzy hear, he would talk to the girl between kisses, telling her how he knew everyone famous in this city, how he'd make them both stars. They giggled moronically. He passed them a tray, lines already set up on it. Lifting her head from his dick, the second girl was happy to oblige and took one, while the other whispered something into his ear.
Whatever she said would never come to fruition, however, as the second girl screamed. Was she hallucinating? Was the drug kicking in so soon? The devil seemed to have entered - Tall, dark, with pointed horns growing from the side of his head. Carlos turned for his gun, but the demon spawned a winged creature from his depths, it sliced at Carlos' hand, as both girls leapt from the couch and ran to the corner, cowering and sobbing. The white eyed beast turned to them.
"Leave…" It spoke, causing them to run for the door in terror. As they left, the beast reached out, and shut the door behind them.
Carlos clutched his bleeding hand, as his predator spoke.
"I hit a few nerves. You've minutes before that becomes too fatal. And don't try and reach for your phone; you talk to no-one but me. I decide if you leave here with that wound, or more." Carlos' beady eyes kept shooting for the phone on his desk.
"W-w-what d-d-do w-want?" He cowered.
"This place closes tonight. So does 'Omen' on 23rd street, and 'Syndrome' on 25th. And I want to know who is supplying you."
"Y-you can't just come in here, and ask a manager t-to close his cl-"
Another winged object flew at Carlos, tearing through the couch, leaving a hole mere centimetres away from his crotch. Carlos cried in agony. Again, no-one heard.
"Who is supplying you?" The demon spoke again.
"O-o-okay, these g-guys, a-at the docks-" He began to confess.
"I want names!" The demon roared, swiftly moving closer, till all light around Carlos was diminishing in the mist of darkness that followed this demon.
"I-I-I" Was all he could articulate.
Damn, he's too coked-up to be of any information! Bruce cursed mentally.
Before him was the whimpering wreck of Carlos. Piss began to stain the couch, as Bruce lifted him up by his neck to also see a dark brown patch where his ass was. Crane may not have helped make this stuff, but it was clear it can do some damage to even the most hardened of drug-users.
This is the same man that stood before Dent only two weeks ago, over that girl Isabella's murder. He showed no fear in that court room. Between Loeb and Falcone; there'd be too little evidence for even Harvey to get a conviction. This scum was too helpful to the cops and the Family to be put behind bars so soon. His case was even broadcast (even for this city, the state of the girl's body attracted quite a bit of media attention). Yet here, before him, he feared the darkness. The law could not overcome this city of crime. But justice can. And Bruce was Justice.
As he lifted Carlos' face to his, something else happened. The drugs seemed to have took a more violent turn. Carlos screamed in pain. Surely the wound wasn't too serious yet. He had another ten minutes before he would have lost enough blood. Carlos thrashed about.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" He cried.
Bruce dropped him and stepped back in shock. Carlos collapsed on the floor, eyes rolled back, and he clutched his chest, before finally, he stopped. Bruce bent down after a moment, checked his pulse, and sighed. The fear was too much for Carlos. His heart failed. At this point the music had stopped downstairs. There were sirens outside.
Great! Those girls actually got a hold of the cops! Bruce didn't need Loeb's men running around the place. Not while he was over a dead body. And the last two people to see Carlos would swear he did it.
Bruce grappled to a vent in the top corner, and, with muscle-ripping force, tore it from the wall. Climbing in, he followed it until it led to the alleyway where Isabella was found. Dropping down, he drifted between the shadows, taking a look at the horde of police cars outside the club.
A known gang of sex-offending, drug-dealing murders have been openly operating here for four months, and they only take notice when two girls cry 'The Bat is here!' Bruce couldn't help but find it predictably amusing.
Lifting a grid into the sewer below, he counted his blessings. Only a year into his campaign, it wouldn't be long before the smarter cops at the precinct begin to scour the sewers, as well as the rooftops, in order to explain his disappearances.
"Here we are, Master Bruce!" Alfred declared as he entered Bruce's bedroom that afternoon, carrying a tray of fruit and a newspaper.
Bruce lifted himself from the bed and began to eat, as Alfred indicated to the front page.
"'The Globe' here declares you've killed at least 20 now sir! Honestly! A junkie like that is usually so full of that poison his own shadow would kill him, never mind yours!"
"It's nothing I didn't expect Alfred, 'the Globe' has been pressed on heavily by Loeb, anything that can make me look bad will be printed."
Alfred paused for a moment before speaking again.
"Astute as ever sir, indeed, 'The Globe' is the only paper that accuses you."
Bruce looked up, puzzled.
"What? What other papers are talking about it? Carlos wasn't even that well known."
Alfred didn't answer; instead he switched on Bruce's personal laptop. As it booted up, he turned to his master.
"Quite a lot of papers actually, sir. International ones to be more precise. You're only mentioned in two or three – all American – as the rest of the world doesn't even know the Batman exists. And they aren't blaming this on drugs either. They suspect someone else."
Bruce still looked confused. He had been so swept up with the drug rings in the clubs downtown that he had little time to follow any other media frenzy, especially if it didn't involve criminals in Gotham. Alfred, however, made it a point to keep up to date on any other affair; primarily to inform his master should Bruce need to act as if he hasn't been out every night breaking teeth and getting shot.
At this point the laptop was powered up, and Alfred busied himself by going online and finding a forum that would help his explanation. Bruce got out of his bed and walked over, leaning over his butler's shoulder.
"Tributes to…Kira?" Bruce didn't know what to make of it.
"Yes, over the past month there has been a lot of deaths in the world of crime. Between known Mafia leaders, to convicted Yakuza members, and even several high-ranked Taliban terrorists - they've all died the same way…a heart attack."
Bruce paused for a moment.
"And the press thinks that the same thing happened to Carlos?"
"Yes, his face got recognition this morning because of that poor girl's death outside the club. People suspect that someone is orchestrating these deaths – they call them Kira, because-"
"I travelled through Japan, Alfred, I know what it means." Bruce interrupted. Alfred coughed indignantly and continued.
"Well, Kira has made it evident that they kill criminals, drug dealers, rapists, murderers, muggers – it seems they have the same distain for evil as you do, sir."
"…don't put the Batman in with this 'Kira', Alfred. What they're doing isn't justice. Some of these men were already behind bars. They were already paying for their crimes. This killer seems to have a pretty childish sense of justice."
"At any rate, you're off the hook for the most part. The majority of Gotham would rather believe it was this Kira whom killed Carlos, than the mythical Bat."
Bruce stood silent. He didn't care if Gotham blamed him for Carlos death. He had too much going on through his mind right now for that problem to worry him. Was Kira responsible for his death – all their deaths? He travelled the world yet never heard of any assassin like this. Was it telepathy? Was the killer using viral technology? Was there even a killer? If there was, then this Kira had halted his own investigation, no different than if the killer had been present there. He needed to be stopped.
"…I know what you're thinking, Master Bruce; but for the time being let's not bite of more than we can chew. Rumour has it amongst police intelligence that the detective 'L' has a keen interest in the Kira killings. I believe you know of him?" Alfred turned.
"Yes. I never met him, but P.I.s worldwide hold him in high regard. There was talk he based himself in England for a time, right?" Bruce mused turning to Alfred expectantly.
"Yes. But you're not falling for that old American presumption that I know everyone from England simply because I was born there, are you?" Alfred spoke, slightly annoyed.
Bruce laughed off the last comment, before scratching his hair. If 'L' was investigating the case, and since he was already knee-deep in the club drug ring in Gotham, there'd be little point in searching for some 'Kira'. The Batman had other business to attend to, rather than chase a suspect he didn't fully believe existed.
"Oh, you suck, Light!" Sayu laughed at her big brother from the living room.
Both she and Light held wireless steering wheels while racing on Mario Kart. Light was letting her win, obviously. He was too kind a person to spoil his little sister's fun. She knew that, obviously, but she still took pride in it. He guessed as much, since there was little of anything else she could be better than him at.
Despite feigning a need to win, Light was doing rather well to keep racing. He not only had to put up with his sister's taunts and giggles, but the satanic cackle from the side of his face, a cackle only he could here.
"Wow, Light, she's right! You really do suck! If you'd have only chosen Bowser, you'd be able to muscle her out of the track!" Ryuk's disturbing grin jumped between Light's face and the screen. After winning for a third time with such a handicap, Sayu decided to get a snack from the kitchen for them.
When out of ear-shot, Ryuk decided to speak again, knowing he'd get an answer from Light.
"Why are you even playing? Not that I'm complaining or anything, but you usually have 'important work' to do." He taunted.
Light turned to him and spoke in little more than a whisper.
"The cameras are gone, and there's still nothing that can link me to Kira. L has nothing. I need to keep up appearances in the family. If Sayu thinks I'm acting strange, dad'll hear about it eventually. We don't need the task force suspecting me again. Besides, I've written enough for the time being. Criminals are still dying, Ryuk – why can't I take a little pleasure after doing such good work?"
Light smiled at Ryuk, whom was standing between him and Sayu. Believing it was at her, Sayu skipped back to the sofa and picked up her wheel.
"Hey Light! You know a bit about this Kira thing, right? Can you tell me something?" She asked breezily.
Light made no bodily reaction, and agreed casually, but his insides were churning. Did Sayu just hear him?
"One of the boys in our class was on this forum in school today. Kira killed some guy in America yesterday; what city was it? It had a funny name."
"Gotham?" Light responded. He thought it best to sound informed, now presuming she hadn't heard his conversation after all, "I heard a dealer got killed by him there, was that the one?"
"Yeah, that was it! Anyway, some guys living there posted some comments that Kira might be from there!"
Light hadn't checked his 'fanbase' for a while now. Since L made it clear he can kill from anywhere, why would they presume he'd be in Gotham?
"Oh, why's that?" He asked, sounding interested.
"Well, there's this…this monster living there. A Bat. And they think it can kill with, like, soundwave-thingies. I mean, it is a bat. And witnesses say it attacked him before he died! What do you think? Think L's in the wrong place?" She looked at him expectantly.
Sighing, Light turned to his sister. "The internet's full of losers, Sayu. That sounds like nothing more than an urban legend. I mean, come on, a giant bat!?"
"But, but if its giant, then it could fly all over the globe, kill people from a distance, y'know?" Sayu attempted to rationally argue her case. Light felt a little insulted that his hallowed quest for good was being compared to a flying rodent.
"You think some people would've seen it, Sayu. And besides, Dad's already told us that he's leading the investigation. You saw L's broadcast. Kira's here. Dad and L will find him, and I promise you he won't be a giant bat." Light smiled.
"…I guess," Sayu looked down, dejected and slightly tearful, "…I just thought, if it were true, then it could help dad…I just don't want him to get hurt…"
He looked down at Sayu. Never missing an opportunity to look more faultless and innocent big brother, Light embraced his sister.
"He won't Sayu, I promise. Kira will never harm dad."
Sayu wiped her eyes and smiled.
"Thanks, big brother. I…I'm gonna go study for a bit. I've had enough games for now." She took herself off to her room sheepishly. Light waited for her door to close before turning to Ryuk.
"Do you think it might be one of you?" He asked. Ryuk was so absent minded during the conversation that he needed to be asked three times before looking away from Mario Kart.
"I doubt it, Shinigami don't need to come down here to kill. And how can people say they saw it, when we're only visible upon touching the Death Note?" Ryuk's points punched holes in Light's brief and only explanation for this ludicrous bat story.
"Yeah, you're right. People will make up any garbage to explain what I'm doing. Still, Gotham. It's been two weeks, and I still can't get a hold of any files on those inmates at Arkham."
"Huh?" Ryuk paid little attention as his Bowser tore through the track, after powering up on a mushroom.
"They keep those files so secret even I can't get access to a name and a face of the madmen they keep locked up in there. Regardless, If Sayu's had enough for today, then I guess we can go back to our mission. Switch that off."
Ryuk moaned as the Wii shut down. The two drifted to Light's room, where 'Justice' would resume.
Well, good? bad? if you've any suggestions, you know where to review (that big box beneath this text) so I hope you'll comment on it! Next chapter will be up soon regardless, so keep on reading! :)