This particular piece is my greatest work beyond all doubt, about a 40 page story thus far. I've worked my ass off on it and am extremely proud of it. It's an emotionally-driven new look into who Mello might have been and written in a sort of oneshotish styling.
We don't get much information on the Wammy kids. As much as we love them, we don't know very much more than their outward appearances and personalities. Yet paradoxically they're so ridiculously developed and complex I find myself wondering just how it is they got to becoming the characters we love today.
This was how Mello Versus Control was born. Mello's not even my favorite Wammy character, yet something drew me into writing for him and before I knew it I had a pretty little cast of characters built around it. I tried to be realistic about the problems he encounters and expound on his flaws as well as his good traits. If you ever see a blatant mistake, feel free to point it out.
Disclaimer: If I owned Death Note, I would not be on Fanfiction. And if I owned Death Note I wouldn't be able to resist giving the Wammy Kids backstories. Don't own, don't sue, thank you.
Chapter 1: Cigars
His hands fumble over the lighter, striking the roller till it spouts an orange tongue of flame. The infant inferno wobbles to some unseen wind and he feels little pricks dance across his back. He knows what's coming…he always knew what he was getting himself into. He read the warning labels…he just chose to ignore them. No, maybe that's not quite right. He just doesn't care enough…doesn't have enough self preservation in his bones. He never did.
The TV near by continues to glow; the only other source of light in the cab of the truck as Mello presses the cigar to his lips. He recoils a little at the foul taste(smoking had never been his cup of tea), his mind chides him for the damage the deathstick is about to do to his lungs. But then, another part of him whispers, he won't be using those lungs too much longer. This realization is met with a chilling sensation…a flood of liquid nitrogen pumping through his arteries.
The news anchor continues her rambling, her voice dancing with an unusually excited tone barely held back by her solemn words. Mello's not fooled by her stoic face or stiff, cardboard mannerisms. Not only does she not care that Takada is missing, she's somewhat happy in a way. Happy to have something exciting to talk about. She thinks this is great fun, like some cheep action silver screen you can see for eight bucks at the movies. Complete with fiery explosions. The kidnapping of a powerful, global figure. The manhunt the whole world is currently undergoing to find her and the perp. An exciting police chase ending with the shooting of an unarmed teenager. Letting his blood make rivers while the real culprit…Mello himself…remains at large.
But this is not a game. It's not some cheap movie flick. Mello knows that better than anyone. This woman's an idiot. She just announced a kid…a good kid is dead and she's happy? He might have struck her across the face if he wasn't above hitting women and if he was present.
The words hummed in his head once again, setting his insides ablaze and his stomach dropping through the floor of the truck. Matt is dead. He hadn't thought it was possible…no more than he'd thought it was possible for L to die. He'd mentally pegged himself and his inner circle as invincible. The people who actually mattered to him were permanently bulletproof. Yet they both were gone now…and he'd be soon joining them. He drew in a long draught of smoke, the acrid gas scorching down his gullet.
He didn't mean for any of this to happen. Well, maybe not ANY of it. He knew his place…knew his purpose. But he'd never wanted this. He'd never wanted Matt to pay for the price on his head. When he hopped on his bike earlier that day, he'd known his own fate was sealed. No matter how many times he promised Matt that he'd come back…that they would both sit down and have a victory cigar together, he had no intention of coming back. He prayed Matt would understand why he had to do this…why he had to redeem himself.
But…none of that mattered now. He was smoking alone, the scar on his face throbbing the way it had when he first got it. The charred skin sent sharp spikes of pain down his nerves. A marker of shame…of all the horrible things he'd done. He shakes his head, blond tuffs of hair speckling his vision.
He turned his gaze skyward. He hadn't long been in touch with heaven and hell and all that jazz. It was actually Matt's firm faith that had began to change how Mello saw Christianity as well…and it was at Matt's insistence that Mello wore a rosary. Matt had always said it would protect him from evil…Mello didn't buy that and he only wore the bloody thing to shut his friend up. Of course that hadn't completely shut him up. It had become almost a game for him…hiding rosaries and crosses randomly through out Mello's stuff. He even chained one to Mello's favorite gun, taking the time to weld it to the base so Mello couldn't remove it. That bastard. That stupid, stupid…sweet bastard. Mello wiped his eyes, suddenly feeling as though a damn wasp had stung them both. Really…that was what it was. Crying? Who was crying? Certainly not him. He wasn't crying he was just…hyperallergenic to bee stings.
Mello would never admit it, but it had the desired effect. For while Mello didn't believe in some bearded-all-seeing-god spying on him while he showered and writing his name down on the Naughty list like some overinflated Santa, the rosary made him feel good for a very different reason. It was an omnipresent reminder that someone actually gave a shit about him. That he had a best friend who actually cared…a reason to make sure he got out of scrapes like the one he just landed himself in. Everything else in his life lasted no longer than an igloo in the Sahara, shifting as the sands on a beach did as the tides beat them to a pulp. But not Matt. Matt was always there. Always annoying him and pestering him.
For probably the first and last time in his life, Mello prayed he was wrong. He prayed that he was stupid and foolish. That there really was something else. Something greater. He didn't care what…some creepy perverted god studying him on a slab with a glorified magnifying glass or even the glorious one whose far too perfect for such an imperfect word that is preached in Sunday school. Just someone, anyone, up there who could give Matt the peace he deserves. Mello didn't care what happened to him…he knew he was a bad guy. But he wanted to believe there was someplace better. Some place his best friend could be happy. Happier than he'd been in this cold world that had been bending him over backwards since he was a preteen. He and Matt had been through Hell together and he still felt responsible for every bloody second of it. He dragged everyone in his life into the inferno…that or they dragged him.
Please don't ask if this is going to be yaoi. I have absolutely nothing against it but I'm not going out of my way to write it. There won't be any lasting couplings, although there will be brief flashes of romances Death Note style. (In other words messed up)
This, like Death Note in general, has mature content. We all know Mello has a mouth on him, so this should not surprise you, but there will be some riskier moments in the story as well and it has generally darker ideals.
Last thing. When I write, I tend to make a lot of connections to music. Music drives my words like nothing else. MVC, as I call it, is no exception. This particular chapter I have no specific songs to attach to, just a large collection of befitting ones but none that really stand out, but I'll make a list of songs for those that want them at the beginning of every chapter. However, if I were to name a couple songs that befit the story as a whole, I would say Kings and Queens by 30 Seconds to Mars, Points of Authority by Linkin Park, Flowers for a Ghost by Thriving Ivory, Fin by Amberlin and Inside Out by Eve6. Very different songs all and covering the facets of the storyline to come.
This will be the longest Author Note. Promise.
I think that pretty much covers everything you need to know. On a lighter note, my reason for posting today and not before or after now, Happy Birthday Mihael "Mello" "Mirror" Keheel! I can't believe I've actually gotten use to calling him Mihael...What the hell is wrong with me?
~Crisi
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