2
L listened to the silence. The silence was something he was used to and darkness was something he was very well-acquainted with just as well. Many nights were followed with silent deductions, silent pondering, dark rooms and dark killers. Most would assume he'd be well equipped to handle this sort of thing. That he'd be well adjusted enough to be able to take the blackness blocking his vision and the silence surrounding him, save for the low humming of the lights. But even the lights were fading into just background noise.
However, his sight was one of his few weapons. He had a limited arsenal, but what he did have was ultimately and immensely powerful. Being stricken of his sight was not something he was well-acquainted with or adjusted to and in fact, it was beginning to bother him like no one would ever have believed.
He always had his eyes. His twenty/twenty vision watching every fleeting criminal, every twitching finger, every darting eye. Inspecting every body hair, every clothing fiber.
Now he was blinded. Limited to only scent and sound. And now noise was gone and there was nothing. It was as though he entered purgatory, feeling nothing but the deep aching freeze clinging to his skin that was burrowing itself down into his bones.
He shivered.
"Your questions are giving.." He paused to swallow his stutter, he couldn't let him know the cold was bothering him. Not now. "..me the impression you might be Kira." L relented, "I'd put it at about fifteen percent now."
It had gone silent around a minute ago and L could hear the heart monitor beginning to beep faster, insistent and in his ear. The noise was erratic, screaming in his ear: he knows you're panicking...you're letting him know...
Calm. He had to be calm. It was his only leverage.
The heart monitor died back down to it's dull rhythmic beep. He tried not to think about the impending danger or focus on the fact he could feel him standing there over his shoulder.
"That's not very high." The gravel voice replied from somewhere across the room.
L released a shaky breath and turned his head to his left.
Then who was it just behind him? Was it a person? Or was it an object, maybe? It was possible, if he was well-versed in the art of 'advanced' interrogation, that he placed something there to throw him off. And if that was true: he'd succeeded.
L swallowed this defeat.
He closed his eyes against the wet material swaddled around his head, focusing solely on his heart beat. It needed to be slower. Slower.
"I'm not Kira." He replied, "I realize that probably does little to assuage your fears. But I don't plan on killing you...My only goal is to make you answer my questions. And this is your last chance, speaking of: Your name?"
L bit his lip.
Besides his suspicion of the man before him, there was also the grave possibility this wasn't only being videoed for the task force. For all he knew, this feed could be in the hands of any number of people. And then of course, there was his sustaining suspicion of Light. Though it seemed he'd been controlled by Kira previously and that he was no longer a puppet, he also knew there was always the possibility Kira, or Kira's powers, could simply control him again and then he'd have his name in his arsenal.
No, it was too risky, he had to find another way to-
Footsteps sounded but he couldn't see where they led to or where they came from. His senses were thrown to the wind again and he hurriedly tried to regain them. Objects were being dragged again. Scratchy squealing noises surrounded him as they echoed from wall to wall. He looked around blindly before settling to focusing his gaze on the light of the television. He couldn't see anything, of course, but it could be his constant. When he got thrown off, rather than panic, he decided, he'd look back to the television and regain himself.
Beepbeepbeep...beepbeep...beep...beep...
His heart rate slowed down again and he breathed. Something was about to happen. But what? He needed his sight, he needed-...Cold air rushed down his back.
He shivered against the water that was slowly crystallizing on his skin and something climbing up from the depths of him: fear.
He, of course, had been lectured on the ways of interrogation. But this wasn't an interrogation, so his studies did little to help him anticipate what might come next. He'd also been taught how to psychoanalyze and it had additionally, always been a gift of his. But with only his voice to base any deductions off of made it increasingly difficult to-
A hard slam against his face broke his thoughts. When had he moved in front of him? How had he not felt it?
"...un..creative..." L murmured through heavy breaths.
"That was another warning. You're not going to like what comes next. Your name." His voice was calm but contained a dangerous edge and L knew he meant every word of this warning. But half of him still, was curious to know what could come next. He knew the feeling was wrong, but it was the way he'd always been. He'd always had a deep rooted thirst for knowledge of anything in the unknown.
It was partially the reason he couldn't stand the blind folds and the little bits of silence.
But self preservation came rising within him. He needed to get out: and in his current position, the only thing he could do to try and escape was figure out who it was holding him captive and why. It was his only chance and strategy at that point.
"...Tell me...yours." He panted, coughing against the pain throbbing across his face and penetrating deep in his cheekbones. He could feel the swelling beneath his skin just as he suddenly felt the silent man's presence directly in front of him. Where he'd been before where he could've given him the punch across the face before he wasn't sure. He could smell his cigar smoke clinging to his clothing. He could almost taste his aftershave.
He positioned his face upwards.
'C'mon. Come closer. Let me see your face.'
"That isn't the game, L."
He breathed a small sigh. Maybe the torture he had planned for him would give him a moment to at least think. He needed a second to just think. He felt his body, entirely of it's own doing, begin to shiver again from the freezing air. The water clinging to his hair more than likely had frozen between the strands. His lips were chapped and quite possibly blue with the numbness he felt.
"Cold?" There was a dark humor residing in that single word, a humor that was sharp and so, so right.
"This won't break me." L responded lowly, "I've had worse."
"You'd be surprised how many give up right about here. They feel their skin start to freeze? They give in, crying. Begging. Between you and I...and them..." L figured he must have motioned towards the TV because he detected a sudden movement in front of him, "...I wish you'd be like them. You don't want this, son. Lemme tell you."
"Tell me your name." L said calmly, biting back any shivers that threatened to compromise his voice.
"...Fine." He replied plainly. L listened to his footsteps cross the room. The clicking of his hard bottomed shoes.
Expensive, but worn- Where was he going?
"My name? They call me Method. Because my method's the only one that works."
And with that the lights flickered off all around him, the door slammed shut and the only sound left was his own heavy breaths and the beeping of the heart monitor escalating beside him.
Blackness, silence.
His skin was numb. His brain was racing.
"Mr. Yagami...? Light...?"
The screen was on, he could see a faint glow through the blackness, but no reply came back.
"...Watari?"
Silence.
Complete black silence.
L released a couple breaths and swallowed. The beeping was escalating and he didn't care. There was no one around except behind him, but he'd deduced by this point it was a thing, not a who. No humanly smell came from it: not a musk, not a perfume, nothing.
He fought against the restraints in rhythm to the beeps, grunting against the pain that rose from his tearing frozen skin. He stopped quickly.
What was he doing?
He could manage this. Light was quite capable of leading the task force, he reasoned, and Watari would certainly not allow this to go on for longer than another couple of hours. He had every genius mind in the world at his fingertips. Certainly a few lesser-geniuses at Whammy could add up to himself and even beyond. And Watari knew every one of his enemies just as well as he did.
They'd find him. They'd solve this. And he had to remain calm: it was his only task. Remain calm. Attempt to extract information when possible. That was all he had to do.
Keep calm.
L waited continuously.
If there was any chance that the task force could still hear him, he thought it'd be a good measure to let them in on any ideas he might have on who this man could be, but nothing came to mind and so, he sat in silence. Never ending, continuous silence.
For upwards of eight or ten hours, he sat there. Silent. Frozen. Shivering. In darkness, blackness, utter solitude.
He thought for a second it was probably befitting that this be his torture. The thing that had bothered him least in life, was bothering him most at this point.
L tried to figure out the time of day, but it was impossible. He thought it could be morning, but then again, he thought it also could be afternoon. Time had drifted by steadily and without warning.
He knew this was a form of psychological torture.
L swallowed the defeat for the second time: it was working. And how could he fight the effects? To be left in the unknown...it was the one thing he'd never been able to stand.
A door creaked open. He turned his head to greet the sudden noise and listened as the door closed behind them. The lights flickered on around him, the familiar low hum came back around him.
"Good. You're awake." The voice, that reminded him of tar, was back again. Filling the room with cigar smoke and another scent... something clean...soap.
L thought about a warm shower. Standing beneath scalding waters, feeling every burn bring his skin back to life-Something gripped the back of his seat, dragging it backwards.
"Name?"
He closed his eyes against the stiff material.
He expected a pause. Maybe another punch. Another warning and a maybe a bucket of ice water.
But it was instant.
The back of the chair hit the floor and he found himself laying flat, still attached to the chair, his legs and arms attached to it's own. Within seconds, his shirt was cut down the middle. He could hear the scissors quick at work. The two halves were pulled from his body and L did his best to manage his heart rate which was escalating quick.
Nothing could distract him from the quick and dexterous fingers.
All the time, wondering when and how and what.
He dry swallowed and released a shaky breath. Over and over again until the pain finally came.
Something hot and burning tore through his skin and melted it away from his body. The shower was no longer a fantasy. It was reality and he quickly realized how stupid his dream had actually been.
For a third time, L swallowed defeat. And he'd never swallowed defeat so many times in a single day from a single person. His torso was screaming and so was he. He screamed, like he'd never done before. Full, lung-emptying yells filled the room. Echoing off every wall.
The burning hot liquid ripped through his torso and with every breath he drew, the skin stung worse. A chemical smell made it to his nose and he realized rather quickly: it hadn't been boiling water.
Freezing water followed and the burning escalated. His breath drew in so fast and so hard, his lungs hurt as they filled and his shoulders convulsed against the agony.
"It was only a phial full." The man reasoned, no mirth laced his words this time, "But I have more. Now: your name."
L swallowed.
It was at the tip of tongue, threatening to escape his lips with every breath he drew and released. But he held it back, biting his tongue and closing his eyes beneath the material. He shook and pleaded internally with whoever would listen: to please, let Watari find him. He had nothing. He had absolutely nothing...
Leverage? He had none. Escape plan? Nothing. Deductions, clues? Nothing, nothing, nothing.
"This is ridiculous, kid." He heard him take a few steps and breathed in as steadily as he could. His heart was racing, proven by the almost concerning noise the monitor was making. He thought for a second that it had flat lined with the urgency of it's continuous beeping.
A high pitched noise suddenly broke the beeping and he focused his senses on it. As the sound faded, gradually, voices could be heard.
"Ridiculous? It certainly is ridiculous!"
It was Soichiro.
"You have to stop this! Tell us what you really want." Soichiro's voice yelled urgently, his breaths coming in between every other word with increasing anxiety, "Money? Is that it? You want money?"
"For now, I want his name."
"They don-...They don't know my..." L's voice faded, he couldn't even work up the strength to form words. His mind was at the brink of white hot nothingness and his heart was in his throat.
Calm. Had to be calm. He was drifting. In and out of consciousness. His eyelids begun to fall. Any normal human would have given in to the immense agony, let themselves submit to the dark numbness of sleep. But he couldn't...he wouldn't...
"You're positive? None of them?"
Watari.
"Watari." L regained himself half way, "Do not give him my name. Do you understand? No matter what he does-"
"Watari?" Method interrupted, "Ok, Watari. I know you're the older gentleman there. Watari: you can listen to the boy here..." He cleared his throat, "...but you'll be witnessing some more of what you just saw..."
There was a brief period of silence, "Please...don't hurt him any more. Ryuzaki...I'm not sure I can...let anymore of this-"
L felt the battle beginning to slide down the wrong side of the hill. His little footmen were retreating, the opposing men were invading by boat and by the thousands. They were raising their flags. He could see himself, bleeding, defeated. Dead.
"Watari. No. No, I will be fine. Do not give him my name. He could be...working with..." His voice lost itself in his throat. He didn't have the strength to yell anymore.
Determined footsteps returned to his side and threw the chair back into an upright position.
"Oh...God...Chief, I-..." Matsuda mumbled in what L instantly recognized as distress.
"Ryuzaki..." Soichiro lost any further words in his throat and fell silent.
The blackened charred voice was biting, defensive and angry now, "Do you see this?" Method slapped a hand onto L's shoulder, receiving a pitiful sort of scream, so soft it was like a whisper. " Is this what you want, Watari?"
"Ryuzaki...please, give him your name."
"We can cut the feed if you'd like, Ryuzaki. But you have to give him your name." Light came in next, "You can't handle much more of this, Ryuzaki. Just listen to yourself." The words came in as hard facts. There was something akin to grief mingled between his syllables, but L brushed it off quickly.
The pain, however, he noted, must have been a good indicator of how it truly looked.
"C'mon, L. Give me your name, and I'll make the pain go away. How about that, kiddo? I'll make you pain free."
The pain...the pain was on the verge of unbearable.
Instead of getting used to it as he'd suspected he would, it felt as though it was steadily getting worse. It was though his brain couldn't registered anything but noise and pain. Noise and pain surrounding him. Darkness, blackness, pain, screaming, yelling.
Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep.
You're defeated, you're done, he won this round.
Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep.
Screaming in his ear.
"Name."
There was, for a moment there, beautiful silence. Blooming, hot, hating, ugly pain. Dark, bleek, blackness.
Defeat...
He wouldn't swallow it again.
"...No."
"Ryuzaki! You have to stop this!" Matsuda yelled, screaming and begging and-...
He felt the familiar burning against his shoulders within seconds. Eating its way through layers and layers of skin. He released another scream. It was broken. Charred like Method's voice. It was nearly gone.
He had little scream left.
But he'd scream until he couldn't anymore.
He wouldn't give in...
L didn't give in...
This was rule...law...
"Stop this, please!" Watari cried out.
L had never heard the level of desperation in his voice that he heard now. Not once in all of his twenty-three years had he once heard the tone in his voice he heard now and it scared him.
It terrified him.
He shook and convulsed in the agony as the burning spread across to the other shoulder and down his back.
With that, he heard the footstep. Hard pieces of leather hitting against hard cold cement. The door slammed.
But the volume was still on, evidenced by Matsuda's steady pleading and the glow that remained through his blindfold.
His head dropped to his chest.
Exhaustion was taking over but pain was ebbing away at the chance of any rest. His wrists shook in the restraints and his ankles pressed against the restraints.
Couldn't he have taken the blindfold off? Couldn't he have...couldn't he have...?
He closed his eyes.
There wasn't a difference but it gave him solace.
"Ryuzaki?...Ryuzaki?"
His heart begun to slow.