If you think I own either Death Note or Heat Guy J, you must not be thinking very hard. Were I to possess either franchise, this story would be published in a format whence I would be receiving royalties.

Chapter.02: -GAMBLE- (Impertinence)

He didn't like the winter air. Even if it never got particularly cold, it dried out his skin, and that irritated him. And if he was irritated, he was distracted—his least favorite mental state of all.

Scratching one denim-clad leg with the bare foot attached to the other, the rumpled young man stared down at his computer on the floor and frowned. Did the culprit have access to more information than he had thought? On a whim, he'd sent Near to deal with the heart-attack case, more to assuage his own anxieties about the possible connections between several deaths than because he thought the boy needed practice—and then one hundred and eight victims had met their ends.

Were he free, he would have taken the case himself; but the police had earlier asked him to deal with a serial bomber and he had acquiesced out of boredom. Now he found himself wishing he'd kept his schedule open for this new challenge. It looked like an interesting one.

One long-fingered hand reached for his telephone; then he retracted it, bit his thumb instead. Let Near handle the case alone, he reminded himself. No benefits would be earned from the experience if every other second he was feeding his own theories into the young boy's head. Near was perfectly capable of solving the case without assistance, and even if he wasn't...

He wondered what his other young subordinate would think, were he ever to discover his superior had known the boy had tapped Near's phone. Why the blond boy had chosen to storm out of the orphanage four years ago, the young man had never been able to discover despite his remarkable deductive skills; but he'd kept close tabs on his potential heir's movements ever since. That the boy had succeeded in his chosen field came as no surprise. What mildly stunned the young man was the venue in which his former apprentice's interests apparently lay. He'd known the boy was reckless, but the mafia? Boys in training to become great detectives didn't commonly run off to lead lives of extravagant crime.

Extravagant crime...hmm. His dark, heavy-lidded eyes widened even further as his brain pieced bits of information together; reaching for the phone again, he dialed a number and held it to his ear, dangling the handset from the tips of his fingers.

"Detective Edmundo?" he asked. "It's L. I'm ninety point three percent certain I've solved the bombing case. Be alone in your apartment at five o'clock sharp. I shall call you again with all the details." Hanging up, he helped himself to a piece of the half-sliced cake sitting on his low coffee table and clambered into an armchair to enjoy his snack, tucking his knees up under his chin and curling his toes around the edge of the cushion. Well, that was one case solved, and now he was free again. Just after he'd willingly surrendered the first tricky case in years to someone else.

Even the great L, it seemed, could fall victim to irony.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

After her initial dialogue with the boy, as the morning wore on Kyoko couldn't discern any noticeable differences between working with Near and working with Daisuke: both seemed perfectly content, while she busily typed and filed away at her desk, to lounge on the couch and watch television.

"That's interesting," Near commented, flat on his stomach and knocking two robots together halfheartedly as the reporter on the news read off a sampling of the crimes the recent heart-attack victims had committed. "Is there a way to get complete criminal records for all the victims?"

Kyoko looked at J, who replied, "I have access to the entire police database. It will be simple for me to type and print a list for you. Will names and crimes suffice?"

"If you can bring the database itself up on the computer, I'd prefer that," Near answered, yanking the heads off his models and swapping them. "I suspect the killer has access to the same sources and want to see exactly what he can."

At first, Near's offhand tone hid the accusation he was making, but once she realized what the boy was saying Kyoko's head jerked up. "Are you saying the police are behind this? How can you jump to a conclusion like that just from what these people did?" She'd become accustomed to Daisuke's infamous hunches and learned to tolerate them only because they had usually been proven right. It seemed too large a coincidence in her eyes for her new coworker to possess the same near-psychic intuition.

Near barely glanced at her before replying, padding over to the computer where J had pulled up the records for him, heedless of the playthings he stepped on in the process. He did not sit so much as huddle in the chair, upon reaching it. "I never mentioned the police, only someone with access to police information, which as the machine here has just displayed is not as protected as the majority would like to believe.

"As for the second question, while the crimes committed were certainly reprehensible, very few of them seem to have been for the perpetrator's benefit alone. The great majority were committing criminal acts for someone else's sake, be it an employer, a family member, or to procure funds to repay a debt. To me, that seems like a warning to the people who dispatched them, but aside from that, because these fairly small crimes were committed by fairly anonymous individuals, very few were ever reported and even fewer were severely punished. The killer probably wants everyone to figure out the warning symbol, but if he is used to being well-informed in all sorts of crimes he may not have realized he is providing a clue to his identity by using heretofore unknown criminals."

He scratched his head idly and began scrolling down the records. "Of course, there is also a great chance the killer is fully cognizant of all the clues he is sending and means for any persons attempting to discover his identity to arrive at such a conclusion. Though I cannot see what good that does him." Turning his full attention to the computer screen, he fell silent.

Kyoko watched him read for several long moments, trying to figure out for herself why someone with access to police records would want the police to become aware of the fact, but as her eyes landed on the clock in the corner of her computer screen she jolted out of her reverie. "Oh! Near, it's time for our lunch break."

"I see." He remained, however, firmly planted in front of the computer.

Kyoko, standing, fidgeted awkwardly. It was the boy's first day, and she wanted to do something to make him feel at home...but he had already settled in quite well, it seemed. If anything was out of place in the office, it was her. Gathering her courage, she vowed to fix this displacement.

"Near, I'm going out to get my lunch. Would you like to come?" she asked, picking up her purse and checking to make sure she had enough money to cover them both. "I know some very nice places in the area."

"No thank you." He slumped over even further in the chair, balled up in a tight white bundle on the seat.

Kyoko, however, was determined to become friends whether her new colleague wanted to or not. "Are you sure? We could listen to see what other people are saying about the case."

"Other people aren't any help. Not even the police can handle something this odd."

"You shouldn't say things like that about people you've never met, Near. You could be missing out on some great friendships," Kyoko pointed out, trying not to let too much of her own frustration seep into the words.

Apparently she met with less success than she'd hoped, because Near gave her an empty yet knowing stare from beneath his white curls; but then to her surprise he unfolded himself and stood, though his posture still left much to be desired. Shuffling to the door, he stuffed his feet into his shoes. "Very well. If you wish to become my friend, I will let you. But this is the only time. I do not like showing my face in public."

"No one will know who you are," Kyoko promised awkwardly, shooting a desperate glance at J. The android, however, did not know what was expected of him and remained silent, save for promising as always to guard the room while its human occupants were away. Kyoko thanked him as was her usual custom and led Near out of the room, already wondering where in the city she could take the boy that might actually meet with his approval.

It wasn't until she and her pale companion had exited the elevator and were on their way across the lobby that her eyes landed on the woman waiting for her, and she groaned. She'd forgotten in the strangeness of the morning that her lunchtime had already been monopolized.

"Near, I'm so sorry," she said. "I forgot to tell you someone will be joining us."

"You mean you forgot you already had a lunch date," Near corrected flatly, and the woman running up to Kyoko gave a little gasp of surprise.

"Kyoko, who is this--"

"He's called Near, and he's filling in for Daisuke," Kyoko replied wearily, missing the cocky agent more than ever. "Near, meet my mother."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Happy?" the blond young man asked around his chocolate bar, hands still in the air as Clair and Giovanni sized him up. Catching the look the bodyguard shot him, the young don nodded once, slightly, and Giovanni gestured with the barrel of his gun.

"You can put your hands down now, kid. But no sudden movements."

"Gotcha." He took hold of his chocolate, removing it from his mouth but ripping off a huge chunk of candy in the process. "Got a minute to talk, Vampire?"

Clair shrugged; if this boy could play casual, then so could he. It was bad enough the boy had defeated him at dressing down—while no one could accuse Clair of being a sloppy dresser, he always made a point of being attired at least one notch more casually than his subordinates, the intended message being he didn't need to look his part, whereas his associates hid behind their suits. To counter the boy's brash attitude with stiff formality would imply a need to protect himself with an officious manner. Vampire required no such masks.

Besides, anything was better than meeting the mob—in two senses of the word—awaiting him in the foyer, with the demands they were bound to make that he was not prepared to accept. "Looks that way," he replied, glancing around as if to search for a hidden queue of supplicants anyway. "But don't get too comfortable, Mr...why, you haven't even told me your name." He scratched his face absently, displaying the knife still held in his hand. "That won't do."

The boy's dark eyes darted back and forth as well, except his motion seemed to be in earnest and not a joke. "Mello," he replied brusquely. "My name's Mello."

Clair's face darkened. "Aliases are fine outside of my presence," he informed the boy, "but if you want to join my game you have to prove you trust me." It was a bluff; for all he knew, the names he had on file for his other colleagues were just as fake as some of the other monikers under which he knew they operated, but if that were the case they had covered the lies much more completely. What was the kid, an idiot? "One more chance. What's your name?"

The boy grinned. "What, you don't believe me? Fine. My real name's Nate River. Still, everybody calls me Mello." He took a long lick along the side of his chocolate bar, looked down at the young don with his head tilted upwards and his pale gold hair swinging down to brush the sides of his neck lightly. "Because I'm so laid-back."

"Then we'll get along fine," Clair replied, putting down the knife—though not out of easy grabbing distance. "If you're laid-back, I'm easy to please."

Giovanni made a sound resembling a cross between a snort and a cough, and Clair flicked irritated eyes his way. Years of service in the line of fire, and his best man still couldn't pull off a poker face.

"Shall we cut straight to the point?" Mello interjected, finishing his chocolate bar and shoving the wrapper in his pocket. When he withdrew his hand, he held a wad of bills, which he tossed at Clair. The don caught the bundle smartly, opened it, and counted.

"First tribute payment?" he asked; the other boy shook his blond head.

"First three, plus interest. I missed a couple payoffs, if I'm not mistaken." He grinned again, and Clair felt a thrill of excitement jolt into his system; finally, someone to deal with that might actually prove to be a challenge. Oh, this would be a good game.

Doing some mental math, he slid the money into his own pocket. "It's satisfactory, for now. You have Vita's protection, but the Board position is debatable. This company demands far more than just money should outsiders seek full membership. It's a dangerous world we live in, as I'm sure you know."

Mello tilted his head in Giovanni's direction. "I kind of figured that. But we still aren't talking business. I'd think you would want to, Vampire. It's in your best interest. Why don't you hear me out and then decide if you can trust me with that Board position?"

"Earlier you claimed Iwanami's seat was already yours," Clair objected. "Retracting your statement?" Outwardly, his face radiated scorn for the mistake the boy had made; inside, he gloried in his victory. He'd tricked his opponent, gotten the other young man to back up a few steps. The farther a distance the don could impose before pulling the boy close at his own pace, the better.

Scowling, Mello sulked and pulled out a new chocolate bar. "If you insist."

Clair smiled, leaned back on the counter, his eyebrows arched in interest. "Talk."

"I want to make a deal with you," Iwanami's successor proposed, dispensing entirely with pretense and sucking on the end of his candy bar. "Board power isn't what I'm after, though I'll take it if it can help me. You've heard about the heart-attack killings?" Clair nodded, disappointed that the conversation was heading once again in that direction. "I've got...well, let's say an investment in putting the bastard responsible behind bars—or putting a few slugs in his head—as quickly as possible. With your connections, you must receive news from all over this town. I want your network. I want every scrap of potentially relevant news. And I want it promptly."

"Why?" Clair asked, more to see how the boy would react than out of actual curiosity.

Mello didn't disappoint; his eyes widened and even bugged a little, and he gnawed on the candy with more than his usual ferocity. "I'm trying to beat someone to the finish line," he growled. "That's all I can say. Even to you, Vampire. We all have our secrets."

"Indeed we do, Mr. Brook."

"...River."

"That's what I said. Pay more attention." Clair could see Giovanni's shoulders heave in an aggravated sigh but ignored the tall man's disapproval of his cat-and-mouse game. Mello had hesitated before correcting him; that could mean one of two things. Either he was already afraid of speaking out against Vampire—in which case Clair was impressed with himself and disappointed in the other young man—or the name, though certainly more believable than his earlier offering, was also fake. No point in probing any further for now, though. "I can't afford idiots who don't listen when I'm talking. Now what do I get in return for supplying you with this information?"

Mello grinned. "Word reached me that you're hard-up for bodyguards. I can fix that."

Instantly Clair stiffened. "If I wanted more protection, I would hire my own," he informed the boy. "Giovanni has performed very well by himself. Don't think about sneaking a spy in here and figuring I wouldn't know about it." In reality, he was short two bodyguards, a spy of his own, and a casino manager, but had made no moves over the months to fill the vacant holes. He had Giovanni for personal protection, and Mauro was already heavily involved with the casino's operation. The men he had lost could never be replaced. To attempt seemed somehow disrespectful.

"I don't sneak," Mello objected slyly, though just minutes ago he had been eavesdropping outside the door. "I'm freely admitting that I want to plant my man in your ranks. But he'll serve you well anyway. I can personally vouch for his abilities...but I don't want to force you, either. Why don't we meet later to discuss it, somewhere neither of us can try anything in case you still don't trust me?" Noticing the newspaper lying on the counter, he leaned over Clair to pick it up, a sly little grin tauntingly in place as he stepped back away. Pretending to peruse the paper, he indicated the circled name on the list of victims with a gloved hand made smudgy by melting chocolate. "It would be disrespectful for me, especially as the new boy in town, to fail to attend the viewing for a Board member's daughter, and Vampire certainly will be obligated to make an appearance as well. You talk things over with your men, I'll bring my offering along, and if we reach an agreement he'll just leave in your car instead of mine."

"And what will you and this candidate be doing while I'm making my decision?" Clair challenged almost lazily. "You're giving yourself a lot of time to plan there."

Mello laughed and tossed the paper back on the counter, licking his fingers. "Even if I was sneaking around behind your back, Vampire, which I'm not, what have you got to lose from giving me information about this killer or from accepting my man? If something should happen to you on his watch, it's all too obvious who was behind the hit; and I can't imagine you're too crazy about the idea of someone like whoever orchestrated last night running free. He's bad for business in more ways than one."

Clair wondered exactly how much of his conversation with Giovanni Mello had overheard, but quickly decided it didn't matter. The boy would have found out about Lara Rinseko anyway—probably already knew, judging from his choice of rendezvous point. "You have a point," he conceded. "Tomorrow at the viewing, then. But Mr. Brook..."

Mello looked up, an expression of smug, false innocence already drawn across his face, and this time he did not bother correcting the young chairman.

Clair's smile vanished. "Next time, don't make my plans for me. If you're going to work for me, you'll learn your place, or I'll have to wake you up."

Nodding his head in what was most likely the closest thing to a bow Clair would be able to garner from the blond, Mello shook Clair's hand. "Understood. Tomorrow then, Vampire. Enjoy today's meetings." He took one last, sardonic bite of his chocolate bar over his shoulder at the young don, and then slipped out.

Relaxing, Clair put the knife away while Giovanni watched Mello walk down the hall and round the bend, just in case. "I like him," the bodyguard's employer said finally.

"I could tell," Giovanni replied, shutting the door with a gruff, amused sigh. "He was...different."

"He was open," Clair replied caustically, "and I appreciate that." Bending down, he began to rummage through a cabinet under the counter.

"Let the Rinseko thing go, Vampire. Think about what to do next. You still have that whole crowd to face and--"

"I didn't mean it that way...oh, damn."

"What?" Giovanni bent down to see what had agitated the young man.

Clair straightened, thoroughly peeved. "This day is even worse than I thought," he replied, but would offer no actual explanation. "Let's go, Giovanni."

"Whenever you're ready..." The tall man followed his young master out of the kitchen and out towards the foyer, where no less than thirty representatives awaited their Vampire's presence. Licking his lips in annoyance, Clair discovered that not only did he still not have anything to say, but that he would very likely be unable to concentrate on the meeting. On top of all his other problems—mass-murderers out to destroy the company's infrastructure, being disturbed in his private quarters, the sudden pressure of needing a life companion before his twentieth birthday--watching Mello eat had made him want chocolate very, very badly. And his candy cabinet was out of stock.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Head bowed over the handheld game around which his hands were curled, Matt hardly noticed that his friend had returned to the car until the door slammed shut and he found his view of the game screen obscured by an empty chocolate wrapper the newcomer had tossed casually into his lap to arrest his attention. "Let's go," Mello ordered brusquely, and Matt, accordingly, saved his game and started the car.

"How'd it go?" he asked, wheeling the vehicle around to pull onto the main road instead of the back way on which they'd been forced to park on account of all the other automobiles cluttering the Leonelli lawn.

Mello shrugged and handed Matt a pack of cigarettes when the younger man gestured for them. "He's a good guy," he said finally. "A very good guy. We've got him, Matt."

Matt fumbled one-handed with his lighter, thinking ruefully that perhaps he should have lit up before getting out on the street. "That's it?" he asked, almost let down. "You corner the most powerful guy in the business and all I get to hear is 'he's a very good guy'? That's leaving me hanging, man."

"Don't say stuff like that," Mello replied grouchily. "And sit up straighter. God, I've gotta get you in shape by tomorrow."

"In shape for what?" Matt didn't like the sounds of that phrase one little bit. "C'mon, you met Vampire! What was he like?"

"You'll know better than me, soon enough," Mello said, staring moodily out the car window and slouching in his seat despite his criticism of his friend's posture. "But I...Matt, if I'd known he was going to be like that I'd have contacted Vita months ago."

"That's not enough, either. Have some pity. I got sick of hearing you bitch about the kid's luck to have a dad who just handed the company to him, but now I gotta know: was he a sucker because of it like you thought he was gonna be?"

Mello chuckled and rummaged in the glove compartment for more chocolate. "Oh, I walked all over him, all right, but not because he was stupid. He listened to me, Matt. He listened, and he weighed, and he came to the same conclusions as I did. I thought he was going to be some sap, getting to the top like that without even trying..."

"I heard you the first thousand times, you know."

"...but I can't hate the guy, Matt. I want to, I should, but I can't." Laughing, Mello slapped his friend's back, and laughed even harder when Matt jumped in surprise. "Near doesn't stand a chance now!"

Smiling reflectively, he flicked his gaze up and down Matt's clothes. "And you need to find yourself a tux by tomorrow. I think I landed you a job."

Matt stared at his grinning friend and felt his heart sink. "Am I gonna like it?" he asked, though he had a fair notion of what the answer would be. "Or did you screw me over again?"

Mello told him just as they reached an intersection, and their car nearly rear-ended the delivery truck in front of them. In the driver's seat, Matt railed against the utter unfairness of being used as a bargaining chip and thus sold to a kid he didn't know, but Mello tuned all the complaints out. His mind wasn't on the present, or even on the bright future he could already see unrolling itself at his feet.

Instead he found himself once again reflecting on Clair Leonelli, and try as he might he could not keep a smile off his lips. In his dealings with the intruder, the kid had been impertinent, openly arrogant, toying, smug...fun. And Mello's life hadn't been fun in a long, long time.

He looked forward to seeing what the boy would do next.