First chapter, here we go : P The story might be just slightly non-canon (as in not overtly non-canon but probably non-canon) because I'm trying to figure out a way to get L to be a bit more active than just sitting in a room somewhere thinking and talking to Naomi. Thus the non-canon-ness of some of the scenes. Also, Breena Marie pointed out that I made B just a bit too... crazy the last chapter, so I'm definitely going to try to tone him down some for the rest of the book (thanks for the advice, insert smiley here. ; ) ). I almost rushed through this chapter and for some reason it seems a bit... off... to me, but I can't figure out why I think it's off. Anyone care to enlighten me? Lol.
Enough of my blather, let's get to the story. PLEASE REVIEW!! Reviews are my lifeblood...
Chapter 1
Naomi Misora… I think she's the one. FBI agent with a rather outstanding record, and on leave to boot. Convenient. I could just get the whole FBI on this but I'd rather B not be known to the world. It could expose Wammy's, and that's the last thing I want. Of course, part of the reason he didn't want B exposed was simple pride, but he refused to consider that aspect of it. And then there's the fact of why she's on leave in the first place…
Why did L need someone to do his investigating for him? One, because while he did often visit the scene of the crime, he wasn't comfortable at all spending as much time at a crime scene as he would like too. Even if he tried to appear normal, he just stood out too much. Where B was concerned, it was also paramount that he not appear at the scene of the crime a second longer than required. L shuddered slightly.
L had first considered Naomi Misora when he had been looking through a list of FBI agents stationed in LA and had seen she was on leave, which would of course, free up her time to help with the LABB Murder Cases. He was rather pleasantly surprised when he saw her record; while she was low ranking, she had solved some rather interesting and challenging quandaries (for a normal person, anyway) and had been an integral part of a surprising number of investigations during her short career. She was only on leave because she had refused to shoot a thirteen year old in cold blood… the type of person L was looking for.
Frankly, L didn't want a trigger happy FBI agent who would have no qualms about shooting a serial killer. Why? L didn't want B to die. Probably because of some sort of bond he felt with the younger man. Not love, exactly, just the fact that he could understand what and why B was doing what he was doing and, frankly, had liked the kid. Basically, L didn't want a person who would shoot to kill without considering the ramifications first. Of course, L justified this decision with moral reasons and not reasons based on his emotions, but he couldn't help but realize how much he had actually liked the boy. And it bugged him. How could L, the greatest detective in the universe, allow himself to be swayed by emotions?
Easy.
He was human. Just like the rest of us. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't completely set aside those feelings of compassion and empathy.
He growled and pushed the thoughts of B and emotions out of his mind. I need to get in contact with Naomi Misora-san… I could use her boyfriends email address so that I could ensure that she does answer… in fact, I think that's exactly what I'll do. Finding personal information like that wasn't as hard as you'd think it would be, especially if you have an extensive grasp of psychology like L. And hacking email addresses was even easier.
He quickly hacked into Ray Penber's email and typed a message to Naomi Misora:
Naomi Misora-sama
I apologize for contacting you like this.
I would like to request your help in solving a certain case. If you are willing to assist me, please access the third block of the third section of the Funny Dish Server on August 14th and nine a.m. The line will be open for exactly five minutes (please break through the firewall yourself).
L
PS: In order to contact you, I took the liberty of borrowing your friend's address. This was the simplest and safest way to contact you, so please forgive me. Regardless of whether you agree to help me or not, I need you to destroy this computer within twenty-four hours of reading this message.
Of course, half of the email was rhetoric and pleasantries since he knew that no one in their right mind would refuse him, but he really didn't think it would be cordial to just type 'I'm L, I need help, log on to etc. so I can give you your assignment'.
L quickly proofread it, more out of habit than need, and pressed the enter button. As soon as it sent, he deleted the message, then logged out then erased any trace of his hacking into Ray's email account. Satisfied his tracks were covered, he set up a connection to the Funny Dish server, programmed it into 'stasis' mode and stood. He decided that he would take a look at the crime scene himself. While Naomi would be doing most of the investigating, he wanted to at least see all the crime scenes for himself, at least for a moment. Being there in person couldn't be replaced by pictures or police files.
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B grunted and shifted under the bed. He stared at the wooden beams that were supporting the bed and noticed every imperfection, every irregularity in the grain and the make. He noticed the slight stain on one of the beams (how it got there he couldn't imagine) and how the edges of the one at the end was rougher than those of the one that was directly above his head. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Sitting here under the bed was so boring… come on L, surely you've found a lackey to do your bidding by now?
He clucked his tongue, this time getting it just right his first attempt. Rolling over onto his side, he stared at the bookshelf directly across from him. I did do everything perfectly, didn't I? No mistakes… no, of course not, B doesn't make mistakes. He chuckled, frowned, decided a sigh would be more appropriate, and let out a small sigh. I am so stiff… his ears perked as he heard the front door open then close. The sound wasn't at all concealed. In fact, it was almost as if the person was announcing his arrival, so obtrusive was the sound. Who is that? Surely that's not one of L's lackeys… he rolled back onto his back and quieted his breathing, laying absolutely still. Well, if it is, then tsk tsk L, lowered your standards? He listened, the sound of feet sliding across carpet reaching his keen ears. Why is he walking so funny?
After a few minutes, the stranger wandered into the bedroom. B couldn't see a person's name or lifespan unless he could see the person's head, but judging from the clothing it was just a teenager who had decided to be naughty and wander onto a crime scene. All B could see was the shin down, and the teen was wearing dirty tennis shoes and ripped jeans. From the way the foot was angled on the carpet, he had was slouching. He stood there for a second, then started walking around the room. When he moved farther away, B could see he had on a black jacket and had chains hanging from his pants. Definitely a curious and maybe trouble making teen. Just what I need, he thought to himself, annoyed.
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L scratched the nape of his neck and adjusted his black jacket. Who would wear something like this voluntarily…? He sighed and ambled over to the bookshelf. Briefly he wondered if anyone was in the vicinity, he figured the slamming door would scare him or them away, but you could never know. Especially if…
He glared down at the chains as they jangled. Normally he would have just gone out in his normal attire, but in this case he had had to disguise himself so that if B ever saw him, he wouldn't recognize him (of course, he made this assumption ignorant of the shinigami eyes). He figured that dressing like a pothead wanna-be-gangster teen would be the last thing B would expect him to disguise himself as. In reality, he wasn't that worried about B seeing him, since L figured there was a 93% chance that B didn't want to kill him but just humiliate him, but you could never be too careful. Well, no, he mentally corrected himself, absolutes are rarely true… he bent down to look at the bottom row of books on the bookshelf and planned to work his way up when he thought he heard a soft, almost inaudible gasp. Immediately all of his senses were heightened. He stood up straight and turned, tempted to call out 'hello?' but knowing such a thing would accomplish nothing. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Where had the sound come from…?
"Hey kid, I'd get out of here if I was you."
L, shocked, snapped his eyes open and found himself staring right into the deep, black pools of… oh gods, it's B. I knew I shouldn't have been so careless. No, wait, I had actually wanted to meet him. It wasn't until L stood facing the murderer in the flesh that he realized that fact. Why does he look just like me…? He yelped and jumped back, not so much out of surprise as in staying in character. He adopted his teenage, naïve, nasally voice and asked, "Yo, who are you?"
B answered, "I'm a detective. Kid, do you know that this is a crime scene? You shouldn't be here."
"Well shoot, I knew this was a crime scene. It's been all over the news."
"Then why are you here? Crimes aren't a joke, kid, you could contaminate the evidence. You know what that means, don't you?"
"Well, I'm not really into the law business, so…" L glanced sheepishly down at his dirty tennis shoes, elated and terrified at the same time. He struggled to control his countenance. Well, ask him something about the case, come on! You're just a curious teenager, asking questions won't be suspicious… "Hey mister, you have any ideas about who did this?"
B snorted and waved his hand. "Get out of here kid. Or I might press charges."
L gave a small squeak. "Sorry for wasting your time." He turned heel and ran out the door. Once he was down the sidewalk he ran faster, trying to get away from B. Well, at least now I have a general grasp of the crime scene. It'll be easier for me to follow what Naomi Misora says now… anyway, onto the other crime scenes. But… if B was there today, he'll probably be there every day… which means… oh gods, I hope Naomi will be alright.
And of course, L can't just call up the authorities and get them to pick up this creeper guy who happened to be hiding under a bed in the crime scene because he suspected that the guy was the killer because the killer just happens to be his successor who happened to have a fascination with Bs, Qs, and Wara Ningyos when he was in Wammy's House. Firstly, to even attempt to arrest B would force the revelation of the Wammy House, and would put all of his successors in jeopardy, not to mention would expose the tragedies of A and B. Secondly, no court would decide B, or whatever alias he was going by now, is guilty just because of the hunch of a crazy quirky detective who might just live in your grandma's basement.
So L walked away, chewing his thumbnail, dreading yet eagerly awaiting the challenge he knew was to come.
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As B rearranged himself back under the bed, he released an amused cackle. "Kyah hah hah hah hah! Let the games begin!" He frowned slightly. Such a cliché.