Groaning loudly, Light's eyes slowly peeled open. Where was he? What had happened? It was cold and damp, and everything was so dark.

Then everything that had happened came rushing back. He was...dead? But no, that couldn't be right. As if to answer his question, he inhaled sharply. The air was musty and it left a foul taste in his mouth. If he had to breath, he had to be alive. Yes, he had to be; he could still feel his limbs. But how?

He stretched out his arms into the darkness, but didn't get far. Barely above his chest, his hands came into contact with a surface. It was soft, velvety. A growing sense of dread overcame him as the realization hit.

A coffin.

Of course. He had died. Or had done so apparently, at least. Was he buried? He banged on the roof that enclosed him. Was this his punishment for using the Death Note? Was he doomed to suffocate in some sort of cruel–

The lid of the coffin gave way and swung open at his second attempt.

Oh...

Well, how anticlimactic.

Light looked around. He was in the morgue. The room was still quite dark and it stank like a bag of rotting assholes. But at least he wasn't buried six feet under.

He dusted himself off, trying in vain to rid himself of the dichotomous scent that was somehow simultaneously new car and musty-ass basement. Truly this was a mystery he would continue to ponder long into his golden years.

After wandering around, he eventually found his way out. No small feat considering every room looked exactly the fucking same. There didn't seem to be anyone at the front desk, so he just kind of left, thankful he didn't have to explain to anyone what he was doing coming out of the morgue. There were no implications to be formed from that situation that were pleasant in any way, shape, or form.

Light sighed with relief as he stepped outside, taking in the crisp evening air. There didn't seem to be anyone around here, either.

How incredibly convenient.

His mind was still reeling from this entire conundrum. It didn't particularly matter why or how – in the end, only one thing really did matter: he was alive. He was not yet defeated. He had a second chance, and he wasn't about to squander it. This time, he would defeat L. His objectives were simple, laid out so very plainly for him to see: he must defeat L, and then he would become god of the new world. Simple in concept maybe, but perhaps not so simple in execution.

Light frowned and leant against the wall, tapping a finger to his temple as the gears of his mind worked.

L knew who he was and that he was Kira. This was a problem that he had no way to fix. Yet, this also meant that he himself now also knew the identity of L. Finally, his opponent had a face.

But he had did have one advantage: L and the others now thought him dead. They would never expect Kira to suddenly rise up from the grave like a dank zombie. He just had to be careful not to fuck it up this time. That meant he couldn't just go home to get his Death Note – he would blow his cover and he didn't really have any earthly way to explain this to his family. Not that he ever would anyway.

He looked down at his hands. His left hand had returned to normal, but his right remained as large and comical as ever. It looked as if it had been the site of a massive bee-sting orgy, but it didn't hurt. He turned it around in the light, examining it closely. He flexed his fingers; he was sure he could probably pick up an entire watermelon with simply this hand by now. It was strange – why had only this limb remained a yaoi-hand?

Attempting to shove the misshapen hand into his horribly tiny coat pocket, Light whipped out the spare cell phone he kept clenched firmly between his butt cheeks. He had been right to keep it there – it hadn't been found. He was suddenly intensely thankful for whatever force had spared his left hand of its yaoi-dom as he punched the buttons with his wonderful, normal-sized fingers. It was a task that would have been impossible with a pair of those hulking lobster claws.

He held the phone up to his ear and waited.

The line hadn't even gotten to the second ring when the recipient picked up. Light had just managed to forcibly cram his yaoi-hand down into the pocket, thanks in part to him shredding open the entire bottom half. It was a half-coat now.

"Light!?" came Misa's voice in shrill shock.

"Shuddap and listen!" Light hissed into the phone. "Listen Misa, I need you to–" There was a static garble and then dead air. "Misa? Are you there?"

"Light!"

The sound was muffled and he glared at his phone, hitting it against the back of his massive palm in frustration.

A loud, cacophonous scraping wrenched his attention away. Light whipped around.

Misa sprang up out of a nearby manhole like the morning wood that greeted him at dawn, furiously dusting herself off. She kicked the grate back into place, and the horrendous sound tore at his ears again.

"Misa, what are you–?"

She dashed up to him, fervently sputtering, "Oh Light, I knew you weren't dead, I just knew it!" She came up to him, pushing something into his hands as she leaned into an awkward embrace. "When I saw your number on the display, I just knew."

Light looked down to see that it was her Death Note she had shoved into his hands. He grinned. Sewage had never smelt so good. Truly it was a magical occasion that he would now forever equate the stench with victory.

"I told you I would be useful," Misa continued. "Now we can go and kill L."

"Looking for someone?"

They both froze and looked up.

L was there standing before them.

Light's brows furrowed, but his lips curled into a wicked smirk. "So nice of you to save us the trouble, L."

L simply chuckled, and reached back. He pulled out a sniper rifle. He pulled it right out of his ass. It wasn't an asshole, it was a plothole. He pointed the logic-defying weapon right at Light, somehow holding it with only one hand, of course. Because fuck you, that's why.

Light cringed at how horribly contorted L's fingers were to hold the gun in such a fashion. Like come on, the rifle wasn't even the right size; it was like he was carrying some kind of rocket launcher or some crap. His fingers were like going to break off or something.

Misa gasped. "Light, it's L Lawliet!" she said. "His name is L Lawliet!"

Light's face scrunched up as he looked at L, feeling a tinge of something that was almost close to pity. His name was actually L? What kind of fucking idiot named their kid a one-letter word? What kind of equally stupid country would actually allow it? Screw pity, this was disgust.

His hand scrambled for the Death Note.

"Sorry, I can't let you do that," L said, his creepy, contorted finger locking down on the trigger. The sniper rifle had a silencer shoved onto its bulbous barrel, so the bullet made absolutely no sound whatsoever. 'Cause that's totally how it works.

Light's eyes widened, his breath seizing.

"Light, no!" Misa yelled, shoving him out of the way.

Light smacked into the ground, the wind knocked from his lungs. Misa hit down across from him with a huff. The totally-not-loud bullet whizzed over their heads.

L coiled the mass of non-euclidean gun-matter down towards the pair.

Misa hardened. She suddenly dashed at L, her face contorted in anger. She began to twitch, soon breaking into violent spasms. She leapt. L twisted around in surprise, watching her with an expression somewhere between horrified and bewildered amazement. Misa continued to shake in the air, curling in on herself to form a tight ball. A hard, terracotta shell rapidly rose up over her skin, her blonde locks flattening out into dried, leafy fronds.

L shrieked as the flowerpot smashed over his head. The clay pottery parted down the sides in large triangular shards, the soil thoroughly embedding itself into his hair to sensually massage his scalp. The shards clattered loudly as L hit the ground in a heap, the so-called sniper rifle clattering out from the grip of his freak-fingers. The shrivelled-up geranium that had just been freed sat atop the mound of dirt, the blackened petals thrashing wildly in the wind as if to claim victory over its fallen foe.

Light sauntered up to L, looming over him in triumph.

He grinned. "Looks like I win, L..."