Disclaimer: I do NOT own Death Note or it's characters.

April 29th, 1999

Something rough jolted the man back into consciousness. His head felt clogged with cotton and his mouth felt dry. He opened eyes blearily, only to find out it was dark. There was a faded light source that would have told him he was in a lit room, and that something was obstructing his vision, but he wasn't coherent enough. A punch to his face jolted him more into wakefulness. He groaned softly.

Some words were directed at him, but they were not in English, he quickly deduced. The accents and accompanying language was certainly Italian from what he could hear.
"So who is this man?" His brain mentally began translating their every word.
"It says on this Passport: 'Arnold Hamilton', but it seems fake. All our attempts at breaking into that laptop have been fruitless. With such a high security though, I can venture to guess he's either rich, very important, or perhaps something more. Someone in special forces."

The man tested his limbs, finding them trussed up tightly to a chair.
"He's finally conscious," warned a voice nearby. Footsteps approached him and he felt the obstruction being removed, only to be greeted with a bright light. Temporarily blinded, he squinted to adjust, able to make out 5 figures.
"Hey, welcome to our little abode." The statement was in a thickly accented English.
"Weren't expecting us now, were you? We got connections everywhere. A contact told us of a man with your description was spending a lot of money to hole up in that very hotel. With so much money to spend so freely, who couldn't resist a rare opportunity at trying to get a cut out of it. The fact you seem to have an un-crackable laptop speaks for itself. You come from a rich family? Are you a self made man? Got some kind of other thing going on we don't yet know about? What's the deal?"

The raven only shook his head, feigning grogginess despite being fully conscious.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
'I am L.' His alias, one of many, played itself in his head.
"I'm just a reporter travelling overseas. I have nothing of value to you or anyone." The Italian clicked his tongue and shook his head.
"You see, that's where you're wrong. I know that you know that you are in possession of a lot of dough. That laptop isn't low value and that hotel room certainly wasn't cheap. You have money, and I'm prepared to cut a deal with you."
"I'm a freelance journalist with just enough savings to travel. I use my savings to get what I need."
"You are a good liar, I can tell. It takes a liar to know a liar. You... you almost had me convinced, but with what I know and this fancy laptop now in our possession, I think we both know that your level of co-operation will determine a lot of things in the next few hours, days, or even weeks."

The raven didn't bat an eye. He had a strong will, but his body had limits. Limits he knew they would test and certainly meet or even surpass. Whatever they were hoping to get, he'd refuse them. He'd sooner die than give them whatever they wanted from him. More importantly, he hoped his mind could take the pressure without breaking once his body had given out.
"I've got nothing of value," he repeated, squinting at the light source again.
"We shall see about that," said the first voice with a chuckle. This spurred on the rest of the people in the room to break in to mirthless laughter. This unnerved the raven though he'd never show it to them.

The man who he identified as the leader looked to his henchmen.
"Knock him out and send him to one of the holding cells below. Remove any time keeping technology or paper. We're not going to let him know the passage of time. That's all relative now." L understood what this would mean and attempted to free himself. After a brief struggle, he felt a sting on his neck. His body became limp. With his final bit of mental resistance, He found himself untied and dragged. The injected drug did its work and soon his world went dark anew.