Only You Can Save the World! – A Death Note fanfic
Hand trembling, he wrote another line of names. And another. And another. Then the pen dropped out of his hand and he sank back into his chair.
"Having fun?" said a voice in the back of the room.
Light whirled around. A man in a black suit stood by the window, holding an attaché case and walking forward.
"Who are you?" said Light, unsure. "How did you get in?"
"Plot Device," said the man.
"And which of the previous two questions were you answering?" said Light, suspicious.
The man suddenly became animated, slapping his forehead. "Ah, right. My mistake, my mistake. My name is Exposition. Plot Exposition. How do you do, sir?"
Light looked at the proffered hand as if it were something toxic and gingerly shook it. Exposition ignored his restraint and gripped his hand with a cliché vice-like description. Light mentally kicked himself for thinking such a cliché thing, but there it was: the man was cliché. Possibly the incarnation of cliché.
"So, Mr . . . Exposition . . . what exactly do you want?"
"That notebook you have there," he said, pointing, and Light unconsciously shifted his position to a protective stance, "practically glows with the power of Plot Device. My agents have told me it could well be a Class V MacGuffin. When things get this serious, they send out the heavy guns. Me."
"And . . . who is 'they?' " asked Light, trying to extract his hand.
"They are called–" he started, but was cut off by a harsh voice from the windowsill.
"Who the hell are you?" asked Ryuk.
"Ah, right on time," Exposition shot back, nonplussed. "Are you the angel, deity, demon, divinity, djinn, god, goddess, spirit, warlock, witch, wizard, or other supernatural figure in charge of this artifact?"
"Well, hold on, which kind of nonplussed?" asked L.
"What?" asked Exposition.
" 'Nonplussed' has two meanings. It can either mean '(of a person) surprised and confused so much that they are unsure how to react,' or 'informal (of a person) not disconcerted; unperturbed.' As you can see, they're both totally different from each other. So which is it?" L said, possibly raising an eyebrow.
"Well, look," said Exposition, not nonplussed in the second sense anymore but not yet nonplussed in the first sense, although he was headed there, "you can't just go breaking the fourth wall anytime you feel like it, firstly, and secondly, it's all about context. That's how we can tell the difference between 'fish' and 'king' in the language of ancient Crete."
"Hold on," said Light, "we don't know if that's the case. No one's actually translated that yet."
"Right," said L.
"I'm lost," said Ryuk, nonplussed.
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[The next scene contained a fire exit, an exorcist, radar jammers, the FBI, and a cameo by Darth Vader, but has had to be removed due to budget cuts.]
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"So let me get this straight," said Light, after some explanation, "You work for Plot Device Incorporated."
"Yes," said Exposition.
"Somehow they found out that I have this Death Note, and they sent you."
"Yes."
"And you strongly suspect I'm becoming a . . . what did you call it?"
"Protagonist."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, you look innocent enough, but I suspect that the mere fact that your MacGuffin kills people will set you up to become an anti-hero," Exposition said casually. "There's one easy enough way. We do a symbolism check."
"Care to explain?" asked Light.
"I would say it's my middle name, but it's actually my first and last," said Plot Exposition. "Basically, we look for motifs, easily recognizable symbols with universally acknowledged meanings, the like. Especially with the plot-important elements like the Death Note."
"Here," said Light, handing him the Note. Exposition didn't look like much of a threat, and this could be important for Light's future plans. Even so, he was somewhat nervous when the businessman was holding the notebook.
"I see," he said after about a minute of flipping pages and inspecting the binding. "You there, what do you call yourself?"
"I'm a Shinigami," said Ryuk.
"Well," Exposition said, eyes suddenly lighting up, "if the translators hadn't been afraid to use colloquial translations, that would render 'reaper.' "
"Wait, then why not have Ryuk dressed up in a cloak and carry a scythe so the audience can recognize him better?" asked Light.
"Careful! Don't break the fourth wall!" said Exposition.
"Sorry," said Light.
"Ah! I have the answer now," said Exposition. "Ryuk, what's your favorite food?"
"Apples, of course," said Ryuk.
"Wonderful!" cried Exposition. "Well, looks like you're headed for delusions of godhood, my friend! And your name, of course! Why didn't I see it before?"
Mr. Exposition seemed to go through phases of extreme joviality and excitability and then phases of serious businessman-ship.
"Is businessman-ship even a word?" asked L.
"Shut up!" said Light. "Language is fluid, I can make up whatever!"
Ryuk laughed.
"Really, L, you get enough screentime as is. Stop hogging the spotlight," said Exposition.
"But you just said not to break–" said Light, before he was cut off by Ryuk.
"Listen here, humans, I can kill you all with this notebook I have here, and I'm getting bored with all of this nonsense about breaking the fourth wall and grammar. I'm here to be entertained, so entertain me, dangit!"
"Right," said Exposition. "L, get back to your scenes."
And it happened.
"Much better," said Exposition. "Now, Light. You aren't good enough to be a protagonist."
"What!" exclaimed Light.
"Looks like the best you can do is eat potato chips and play tennis epicly," said Exposition.
"Is 'epicly' even a–"
"SHUT UP!" said Light, Ryuk, and Exposition.
"So as I was saying," said Exposition, "you need to get some special training."
"What, my impossible IQ isn't good enough?" Light sarcasmed.
"Stylistic device!" Exposition yelled at L.
"I wasn't going to say anything," said L. "I deduced it was a trap to draw me out. It was a 70% chance."
"You know what?" said Light. "You totally cheated. We don't meet for a while yet. You don't find out about the Note for longer still. So get out and act like you never saw any of this."
L would have apologized as he left, but there wasn't a chance to do so because Exposition chewed Light out again for breaking the fourth wall.
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MEANWHILE, AT INTERPOL HEADQUARTERS
"There have been fifty killings in the last week," said the president. "All of them were criminals with serious sentences and they all died of heart attacks."
"How are we supposed to track a murderer that leaves no trace and kills people seemingly with magic?" asked one of the group.
"Well, it's quite simple," said Watari, walking into the room. "We bring in L."
A shocked silence filled the room. Watari set up his little netbook . . . and L happened.
"What's this about happening?" asked L.
"What?" said the president of Interpol.
"What?" said Chief Yagami and Matsuda.
"What?" said the rest of the audience.
"Stop breaking the fourth wall," Watari hissed. "They don't understand."
"Oh," said L. "Never mind that then. So, on to business. I have deduced that Kira is a high school student in the Kanto region of Japan. I have also deduced that he has or will have delusions of godhood and a childish sense of morality."
"How did you deduce all of this?" asked Chief Yagami.
"I was in the room at the time," said L.
In the rafters, Mr. Exposition gestured at the screen.
"See what you're up against, Light? I told you that you need special training."
"Fine," said Light, trying not to plummet into the Interpol meeting. It would be awkward.
"There's a helicopter waiting for you on the roof," said Exposition.
"What, on the roof of Interpol Headquarters? The guys I'm trying to avoid? How does that work?" said Light.
"Plot Device," said Exposition, grinning.
"Well, I'll be nonplussed," said Light.
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"Well, that went well," said L. Watari stared at him.
"What?" asked L, his mouth already full.
"Well," Watari began, barely controlling his temper, "you were talking about random subjects, most of them not related to the conversation, you claimed to have been in the room and yet you don't know who Kira is, and now they're all convinced you're crazy."
"As I said, it went well," L shot back.
"What?" exclaimed Watari, flabbergasted.
"Well, it would be too easy if I told them it's Light Yagami, address such & such, etc."
"But . . . What you've given them will make it too easy anyways!"
"Hold it right there!" came a cry from the back of the room. L and Watari turned to look.
"The name's Exposition. Plot Exposition. How do you do, sir?"
Watari uncertainly shook Exposition's hand. L just stared.
"You're the guy from earlier. What do you want, Plot?" asked L.
"You look to me like you have good potential," said Exposition. "With work, you could be a sympathetic antagonist. Here's my card."
"Plot Exposition, Esquire," read L, "Department of Character Control, Department Head. Plot Device Incorporated. Well, Sir Exposition, you've got quite a title."
"Indeed," said Watari, frowning.
"That trench coat from earlier," said Exposition, "don't I know you from somewhere?"
"No," said Watari. "Definitely not."
"Hmm," said Exposition, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Back to the topic at hand," L said tiredly.
"Right, sorry," said Exposition.
"What exactly do you want, Mr. Exposition?" said L.
"Honestly, you aren't good enough to be an antagonist," Exposition said.
"What!" cried L and Watari at the same time.
"I mean, look," Exposition explained, "you've got 'quirky' down pat and your genius requires almost as much Plot Device as your opponent, but something's just missing. It seems like the best you can do is eat sugar cubes and play tennis epicly."
"We've gone over this," L said in a threatening tone of voice, " 'Epicly' is not a word!"
"Whatever," said Exposition. "I think you should go and train in one of our facilities. It'll be a two-week thing."
"Now, Ryuuzaki is perfectly competent," said Watari.
"You aren't Michael Cane, by any chance?" asked Exposition.
"I assure you, you don't know me!" exclaimed Watari, exasperated.
"Actually, he does kinda act like Michael Cane," said L.
"What? You too?" sighed Watari.
"Oh, might as well," said L.
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Well, my loyal fans (or perhaps just "fans" . . . or perhaps just "readers" . . . ), I'm back. As you no doubt have noticed, this story is a great deal sillier than Hidden Faces. I will resume such a level of drama once I'm done with this one. Until then, laugh a bit to humor me. Now, this fic will end up as a crossover, so any Death Note purists who made it to the end without suffering seizures, puking up their entrails, or writing their own names in the Death Note can know to stop here. Until then, WRITE ME LOTS OF REVIEWS.
I do not own the rights to Death Note or Michael Cane.
-Gonzalez