In a world where killing someone is as easy as writing their name in a Death Note, people start to rethink how easily they share their identities. How often they have casually spat out the two words assigned to them since birth. Their own personal mantra. Mail Jeevas, Mail Jeevas, Mail Jeevas.
Children that grew up at Wammy's orphanage were taught to hide their names. The smartest kids in the world got to name themselves. Some went for odd names, such as Near and Mello to assert their individuality. Mail, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to blend in and fade into the background. So he chose the name Matt, and in everyone's eyes, that was final. No one had called him Mail in over ten years. He hadn't told a soul besides Mello. So why did this stranger know it?
"Relax," the man told Matt, noticing his agitation, "I don't even own a Death Note, much less going to kill you with one." Matt wanted to believe him, but he knew he couldn't trust anyone. Mello had shown him that. Yet, if the man did have a Death Note, he could've killed him a long time ago.
Slowly rising from his seat on the cot, he studied at the stranger in front of him. His earlier imposing presence seemed to dissipate the longer Matt stared. The guy had short black hair that looked as if it had been hurriedly combed back only moments before. And his sharp suit was revealed to be frayed and disheveled with a second glance. In fact, Matt mused, he almost took on the appearance of a little boy when they try on their father's suit for the first time. He seemed out of place in it, despite his collected attitude.
"Matt? I hate to interrupted your thoughts, but I'm on a tight schedule and this is urgent."
"Ah, right. So er, who are you?"
"Well," the man gave him a look, "I'm a friend of Mello's."
Matt was immediately taken aback. "What? Since when?" Matt suspected this wasn't true, he had been with Mello most of his life after all.
"It doesn't matter how I know him. All you need to know is that Mello is in danger. And I need you to help me save him," the strange man gave Matt a pleading look. Matt could've sworn the eyes that were blue a moment earlier, flashed steely grey. Matt found himself wanting to trust the the stranger, despite his most basic instincts telling him not to. "Alright," he finally said, "But at least tell me your name. I mean, you already know both of mine." The man smiled at the scrawny gamer. "Gladly," he grinned. "My name is Janus, but if it pleases you, you may call me Jan."
"Okay... Jan, how do we help Mello?" The man pondered for a moment, as if he were turning over possible responses in his mind. "I have reason to believe that we may find out information on Mello's location if we go to Wammy's orphanage. Near, a known target of his, left soon after you two did. A contact there mentioned there were circulating rumors but they would only speak them in person. A have a car waiting a block away and a plane booked to leave in exactly one hour. Are you coming?" Matt could only stand in silence, his mind turning. Would he be going back to England? To Wammy's? Could he face his childhood? Everything was happening so fast. He lit up a cigarette to steady his thoughts. "Yeah," he said in a strong voice, "Yeah I'm coming."
Jan grinned again, "Glad to have you on board." He took out a sleek phone from his breast pocket. "Halle? He's in. We'll meet you in 10 minutes."
Meanwhile, Matt was quickly shoving his few belongings into the thin rucksack he kept under his bed. Just the essentials of course. Zelda, Mario, Final Fantasy, Pokemon, his favorite goggles, a pair of pacman Boxers, and his smokes. He couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto his face. For the first time in three months, Matt was actually hopeful.
