A/N: This is the new fic I forgot to summarize. Sorry, I got the idea after I posted =(.The first chapter's so short because I just snuck on the computer again and wanted to get it up. So enjoy and spread the misanthropic DN Christmas cheer! (Spoilers for real names of any DN characters.)

Disclaimer: (Guy wearing fake mustache and glasses looks up in nearly deserted subway station, rearranges paper and scoots a little closer to N, who is watching for the train)

Shifty Guy: "Hey. Wanna own Death Note? I can get you a good deal …"

N (Scoots a bit away): "NO. I want the train to get here so I can get on and get home and go write fanfic and get away from you. You don't own Death Note, anyway."

Shifty Guy (Leans a little closer): "No, but a friend of mine is currently in possession of the authors and they just cracked from the torture, so he should own the rights shortly. So c'mon, whadda you say?"

Ryuk (Flying overhead, cackling maniacally): "Hyuk, hyuk! It doesn't look like this guy's gonna say the disclaimer! C'mon, N, Light's on the train! Why don't you let him kill this trash?"

N (Looking thoughtful, speaks so only Ryuk can hear her as train screeches into the subway station): "You know, Ryuk, that's actually a good idea. Go tell Light about it, please. I'll get you an apple once we get home."

Ryuk: "Sure thing! And you better not try to stiff me with Gala this time! And that Tartarus trick was just plain mean, too! I'm a Japanese death god, how would I be expected to know Greek myths?" (Flies away, guy shivers for a second as the backlash from Ryuk's wings catches him)

Shifty Guy: "So? How about it?"

N (checks watch; 30 seconds, 31, 32, just how many would it take for Ryuk to get there and explain the situation anyway, why couldn't the idiot just killed the guy himself): "Hmm … I don't know. So tempting, but, you know, I just couldn't …" (Stalling, because she just realized that without Ryuk here to kill people she just realized she's pretty much defenseless)

Shifty Guy: "C'mon, you know you want it … I'll even throw in a little sweetener." (Leans forward in what is supposed to be a sexy manner but really just looks like a freaking rapist)

N (checks watch again: 1 minute and 10 seconds, really, when did Light write it down? Never trust a shinigami …): "Actually …"

Shifty Guy: "Stop being such a tea – ugh … urghle … augh …" (collapses, writhing, on bench. Ryuk comes flying back as N smiles in satisfaction)

N (Smiling excitedly, stands up to get on the opening door of train): "Took you long enough, Ryuk. Trying to get me molested?"

Light (Puts notebook away from inside train and grins in most Kira-like manner possible): "And there you have it. No one's owning Death Note but the author's on Kira's watch!" (Leans back head and cackles maniacally, sound bouncing off the walls of the train as everyone turns to stare and collectively sweatdrop)

Random Person (Sigh): "Why is it always the hot ones that are insane …"

Now that I've made you read a page-and-a-half disclaimer (cough, cough)have an actual look at the story!

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Raito, college student and part-time assistant manager of Wammy's, the world-famous chain department store, or at least one of their locations in the Kanto region of Japan closest to his house, checked his watch and sighed. It was his luck as newbie to get stuck training to rush trainees for the Christmas season, and they were, every single one of them, late. And since their salaries were the minimum wage he couldn't make a pay dock about it. Or fire them, understandably, because the store was already desperate. Woe was him.

"My apologies, sir," a small boy wearing the manager's smock said as he peeked around the corner, Raito's first response being No way he can't be old enough to be hired. "I'm afraid I was held up at home." Code for my mother refused to let me go without promising to look at both sides of the street and call her on my break. Raito decided that he'd probably make a good elf, as that seemed to be all the small, slight person would be able to do.

"I'm sorry that I'm la – augh!" A blonde sprinted around the corner, smock in hand, and tripped over the small boy, sending them both sprawling and jumping up to exclaim, "What the fuck?"

Raito sighed again, saying patiently, "Please refrain from cursing while on duty. The two of you should try to refrain from being late next time; but today I will pardon you for being late."

"Ha!" the blonde said, smock forgotten as he propped his hands defiantly on decidedly feminine hips over his wrinkled all-black clothing. "You know that it's way too late into the Christmas rush season to fire us. After all, you have pipsqueak here. That must mean you're pretty damn desperate."

Only three more weeks of torture, Raito chanted in his head as he forced on a smile and politely reminded, "That's right, but please refrain from cursing. I suppose, since none of the other employees are here, I will begin instruc –"

"Sorry I'm late, dude," a redhead said, skidding into the room and looking slightly winded, "but I got up late and just –"

"MAIL, you ASSHOLE!" The blonde exclaimed, picking up his smock and flinging it at him while the pale one continued to watch unnoticed from his place on the floor. "You didn't tell me you got a job here, too! I've been complaining about it all WEEK and you never said!"

"You never asked, dude," this Maild said, shrugging, already dressed in his smock as he shoved the blonde's back at him. "So, Mills, what did I miss? Where are all the other people, anyway?"

It's Mihael, asshole," the newly named Mihael said, jerking his thumb about the room, "and all you missed is that the boss is a namby-pamby prick and they approve child labor here. You actually stood to leave your videogames?"

"What can I say, dude?" Mail shrugged. "I'm broke. I need Christmas presents for my 'rents and my sis, and the new version of Carnage XXX just came out. So here I am. What about you? Run out of chocolate?"

"Look," Raito interrupted, feeling decidedly more frazzled then when they had just been late, "can we get to the training? You can still have your pay docked or breaks taken away, and Wammy's has a strict no-cursing policy. Now, to start with the proper manner to greet a customer when they enter Wammy's –"

"I apologize for my lateness, Raito-san," a voice said smoothly as a dark-haired, slouching newcomer wearing the same tell-tale smock shuffled across the carpet in worn sneakers and no socks – NO socks? Is he serious? Don't any of these people realize this is a job? Raito's business-sense fumed. "This is where the training is to take place, correct? Are we the only employees?"

Raito quickly checked his Official Assistant Manager Clipboard List of New Employees, scanning down the list of names. "Nate … Mihael … Mail … L … hm. It seems we're still waiting for two more, Adrian and Beyond."

"B?" The black-haired man who could either be Nate or L paled slightly.

"Yes, B," a voice from the doorway called, its black-haired owner – what the hell, two of them? – smirking evilly as he and his blondie Goth boyfriend waltzed in, no evidence of a smock in sight. "Nice of you all to wait for us. Surprised, L? Didn't think I could get a job as good as yours?"

"I would hardly doubt your capabilities, B," L said smoothly, recovering himself, as he gestured to B's similar apparel. "Though being ten minutes late and sans smock is hardly the most auspicious start. Are you so sure you can keep it?"

"Keep it?" B drew himself up, eyes glittering malignantly. "I'll do more than keep it. I'll be the best employee here! And when you're fired …" He drew a finger across his pale throat. "You'll be the Backup."

"Well," Raito said, trying desperately to bring back some order, "now that everyone has finally arrived, I believe it's time for the training. Now, most ofyou will be working in stock …"

Six pairs of eyes stared at him unblinkingly.

And I thought thirteen was the unlucky number … Raito groaned internally as he rambled on about how procedure worked here, procedure this particular group of individuals were likely to trample, come back with a carving knife or a cleaver and dice up, shred into bits with either a cheese or meat grinder, set on fire and then cackle maniacally as they danced about the remains. Though, in L's, Nate's, or A's case, perhaps just stare moodily into the flames.

This is so not worth the pay raise.

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Hope you enjoyed. Crack chapters next time, if you like. Review! Spread the DN Christmas cheer!

(And expect my next two fics up some time too.)

-N