WAAAAAAH!! He he he he, I have so many awesome reviews, thanks so much! Sorry about the delay, things are crazy and I have projects to hand in next week ... oh dear. Anyway. I hope you enjoy this, it's kind of fillery, I'm afraid. Don't worry, lots of explaining next chapter. And something for the Cheshire fans, too. There's rather a lot of you, I believe ...

So do tell me what you think, though. It inspires me. ;)

Pairings: Um ... I ... um ... well, it's not MattXMello ... that's explained later on, but apart from that, I have no idea. Seriously folks. Give me your opinions. I do have some ideas, but ... I'm curious. ;p

Rating: T. It's my best friend.

Songs: Lyla, by Oasis, (Charlie's rather a Lyla kind of girl, in my opinion) and Beverly Hills, by Weezer. It's actually their themesong. ;)You can hear them by going to the music player easily accessible on my page.

Shout out to: First, my lovely reviewers. To A Crazy Fol, I say leave now and never return. You fol, you. No, no, I'm kiddin'. I love you baby. You dirty ho. Yeah, you and Twix are a bit like-minded, there ... And Paris! He's freaking amazing. He IS a lej-bag. There is a good deal of lej-baggishness in IQ HQ at the moment, really ... anyway, thanks fol. Yeah, it's too bad you're a lazy fecker who can't be arsed writing shit. Actually, you writing shit to be taken seriously is a funny thought. I like it. I like it too much ... MOVING ON! To Rat300, you're a lej-bag too. Which is amazing. ;) Well, you should feel special. Because you're amazing. Oh, oh, the Hamburgler thing I stole from someone ... I loved their little drabble of it, and then I LOST IT!! I couldn't even favourite it, so I paid homage to it here ... if you find it, do tell me, because I loved it. Austin ... Austin has issues. Don't worry, all shall be explained in due course. But I love him, he's great. THANKS AGAIN, RAT! To Broken Glass Walker, also known as Lexy, wow, another Cheshire lover? Crazy! He he he, my good old dark humour with the Jackson 5, I do love it so ... LOOK!! LOOK!! I UPDATED!! AREN'T YOU PROUD?? Ha ha ha ha ... well, I'm your favourite Irishwoman, now ... IN YOUR FACE, OTHER NOTABLE IRISH WOMEN ... I CAN'T THINK OF ANY, BUT ANYWAY!! I BEAT YOU ALL!! ... and lastly, to the lovely Practically Venomous, who needs to understand her name IS AMAZINGNESS ON TOAST, yes, yes, good old chemists and innuendo. I do love it to. ;) Another Cheshire girl!! WOW!! She's so popular. NO, I LOVE YOU!! YOU DON'T BORE ME! It's totally cool. I'm glad you're enjoying it. Do stick around Mellzy-Wellzy. He he he he he ... Oh, oh, and also one to Nuit Songeur, because she's lovely and very talented herself, and I hope you enjoy this, my dear! ... INSANE IRISH GIRL AWAAAAAY!!!

Wow, that was long and barely coherent.

WANT YOUR OWN INCOHERENT SHOUT-OUT?? THEN REVIEW, YOU FOL!

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Phase 4 : Exposition

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Oh come, all ye SUB PAR INTELLECTUAL ALUMNI.

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'Welcome to Head Quarters, gentlemen,' the girl nodded, seriously, before risking a smile. 'You're both very welcome. My team and I are honoured to have you here.'

Mello couldn't help raising an eyebrow, and taking a glance at the people spread around him. My team. My team.

That hulking, commanding black guy. The two dazzlingly quick blonde siblings. The Japanese girl. The shifty dark haired Paris, AWOL, at the moment.

My team.

This small doll-like little girl … their leader?

Mello understood that brawn had nothing to do with leadership. He was a prime example. Hell, he had run the mafia, and played god in it for long enough to know that, at least. Some of his closest and most loyal gang members could have broken him in half in a few seconds, talking in terms of physical strength. Being handy with a gun was definitely necessary, in those cases. He mightn't have been the biggest, but he had been tough. Everyone knew not to mess with Mello. Mello was made of steel. No mercy. An intellect to break glass.

This girl? This … kid? No. No way.

Something about her irritated him already. Too … gentle.

'I'm C,' she went on, limping forward a pace. Mello's gaze trailed to her crippled right leg, hanging awkwardly beside her left. He wondered what had happened. It didn't look like a new injury.

'But, please, call me Charlise,' she offered, with another smile. Mello noticed that she pronounced the name with a French inflection on the ch and the double e.

Sharleese.

She limped forward another two paces, and this time, Mello really had to notice how awkwardly she moved, dragging the leg with her. She must have almost no control over it at all. Horrific. By the looks of her, she was only early or mid-teen. A cripple for life, already?

She paused, and shifted her weight on her crutch.

'Eh … Mello, right?'

Mello examined her face coldly for a moment, before deigning to nod. She hazarded a sheepish smile.

'Nice to meet you. And Matt. You too,' she said, addressing the red-head.

'Hiya,' he greeted her, with a hint of cheer. Mello supposed it was all very well for Matt. He was pretty easily amused in general. A fast car, some free explosions … pretty girls … yes, it must all translate fairly well in Matt's mind.

The girl smiled slightly more sincerely, pleased at the response she had managed to elicit.

'I'm very glad you agreed to come and talk to us. I think we could be great friends, if you'll give my team and me a chance to let that happen.'

Mello didn't bother saying anything. His fingers were itching, and his blood-sugar was probably diving to depths unknown. He had left all of his chocolate in the apartment, and he wanted some. Badly.

'Would you like a drink, before we talk in the boardroom? Anything at all?' the girl pressed, leaning forward. And Mello suddenly heard very clearly the heavy French accent under the perfectly enunciated words.

'Oh, hey, can I get a coke?' Matt asked, and Mello realised that his head was bent over his handheld games console. Hence the strangely high-pitched and tinny sound effects just audible.

'DUDE! How the hell did you get the iPuzzler? I couldn't even lift one out of the Apple factory, the guard was insane on it!' Twix enthused, realising at the same time as Mello what Matt was doing, and barging forward, past her twin to stare at Matt, adoration plain in her big, slate grey eyes.

Matt glanced up before turning back to the screen. Brash blondes weren't his type, obviously. Mello wondered why he was keeping tabs of exactly what Matt's type was. Oh well. It was sort of amusing.

And relieving. No brash blondes? Looked like Mello was safe after all.

'I designed it,' Matt said, in a muffled voice. Twix's eyes shone, and she opened her mouth to extol the gamer's virtues, when Charlise interrupted hurriedly.

'Twix, Twix, please. You can prey on them when I've explained what we're all doing here, because at the moment, you just sound like a low-grade thief.'

'Too late, Charlie. She already got owned by the blonde,' Austin chipped in helpfully. Crash started to laugh, and the red-headed girl smiled, as Austin blinked, confused, before starting to smile, as Crash clapped him on the back. Mello pondered this momentarily. There seemed to be deeper ties between them than just those of some people forced to convene out of necessity. Charlise turned to him attentively.

'Can we get you anything?' she asked.

'Chocolate,' he demanded promptly. Thank Christ; she might be a kiddy kidnapper, but at least she didn't skimp on the courtesies.

Charlise blinked.

'Um … okay. Any brand, or type, or-'

'Hersheys, dark. Preferably refrigerated,' he decided. The girl's eyes widened, alarmed.

'Uh, okay. I only eat milk chocolate, myself, but Twix, take a look for me, would you?' Was that panic in her voice? She was panicking? 'Could be on the middle shelf in the fridge … though there might be some in the corner cabinet; I saw Pap eating some a few weeks ago … have a look. And a coke for Matt.'

'On it!' Twix winked, and dashed for the elevator, before dashing back, as the small girl called her.

'Well done, Twix, by the way. A job well done.'

The girl's face split into a wide grin, and she placed her hands on her hips.

'Aw, shucks, captain! Thanks.'

Charlise nodded in assent, and turned to the rest of her team as the blonde sprinted to the elevator and climbed inside.

'Well done to all of you, in fact. You all did a great job. Especially Paris … who is not here, apparently. Oh well. Anyway. Um, Crash? Coffee on the job? Again?'

Crash chuckled. He was older than all the others, but still very young. Thirty, perhaps. Tall, broad-shouldered and muscular; capable of taking on anyone in the room. His dark hair was very short, and a diamond glinted enticingly in his ear-lobe. His dark eyes were bright and matched his ready smile. Sincere, loyal eyes.

He was dressed in a well-cut blue shirt and a beige jacket. His trousers were freshly pressed, and he was wearing sand-coloured boots. He looked like a television executive, or the kind of person who would head a committee on climate change, or something.

He looked tough. And yet, Mello watched him walk over to the tiny red-haired girl and envelop her in a warm hug, as he laughed. She was so tiny, it was no matter for him to pick her up and spin her around gently, before setting her back where she had stood.

'Crash!' she protested, colour flaring in her cheeks, as she rearranged her shirt. 'Really!'

But he just laughed louder, and reached over her shoulder to drain an untouched cup of coffee that had been sitting by her elbow.

'Sorry, captain. But you did a great job too, kiddo.'

She raised an eyebrow at his patronising tone, and cleared her throat. She was cute, Mello thought unexpectedly. That was it. That was why he didn't exactly hate her, even though she'd taken his liberty, the most important thing to him. Cute. Like a child. Or a puppy. He'd deal.

'Hmm. Well. Sorry about that, gentlemen. Let's … let's go to the boardroom.'

Austin called the elevator, and in a few seconds they were stepping inside, watching their world contract to four respectably decorated walls. The boardroom was apparently located on the next level up, but no one suggested walking. Watching the young woman limp into the elevator, he could understand why.

He noticed too that Crash took the Japanese girls arm whenever they had to move, and it took him a moment to realise that she was blind. Hence she was still wearing her shades inside. She stood straight and proud, and occasionally made a quiet comment to Crash, who had to bend over to hear her. But he always answered very seriously, and with great respect.

They emerged into a spacious boardroom, with a large table surrounded by navy plush chairs. Eight chairs. And a round table. A clean projector screen was pulled down to cover one wall completely, and the box was set neatly into the ceiling.

The little strawberry-blonde haired girl limped forward into the room first, and sat closest to the door.

'Please, make yourselves at home, gentlemen, I implore you …'

She stowed her cane on the ground and waited expectantly for everyone to sit down. Crash went to sit to her right, before sighing and reaching onto the seat of the chair.

'Charlie, your cat has got issues with my chair …'

'Oh! Chesney!' the girl exclaimed, opening her arms, as Crash lifted a hissing, ginger coil of fur from his seat and dumped it unceremoniously into the girl's lap. The hissing ceased, and Mello watched as Charlise smoothed out the short buttery fur of the cat on her lap, hearing it purr contentedly and watching it relax in her arms. She smiled peacefully down at it, as Crash sighed and collapsed into his chair.

'That cat … I swear to God, I told Paris he'd rue the day he brought it back here, and I will follow through with that …'

Charlise laughed, as she petted the cat gently. Matt spoke, unexpectedly.

'Wow. That cat is exactly the same colour as your hair.'

Everyone glanced over at the tall red-head, cramped over the console in his hands, mashing buttons furiously. He didn't look up. Mello felt like he should explain, but really, what could be say? Please excuse Matt. They put him on pills once, but he started slipping them into the other kid's food for fun.

Charlise continued the rhythmic petting as she looked up to address everyone. But she kept Mello's eye.

'Please. Sit down.'

And they did. Mello still felt like throwing a tantrum and overturning the table, but something in her quiet voice was calming him too, hard as he tried to resist. He didn't enjoy the feeling, but allowed himself to sit down all the same.

The cat suddenly stood up and jumped from Charlise's lap, but this didn't seem to startle her. It began stalking down the table, seemingly set on a target, as the girl spoke.

'Actually, it was the colour of his coat that made Paris bring him back to me. The cat is from Denmark. He was walking down a street, and he saw this cat strutting along a wall, and all he could think of was that if I was an animal, that's what I would be. So he brought him home to me, and I look after him.'

'Did you say it's called Chesney?' Matt asked, his voice muffled from looking down.

'Yes.' The cat was now standing stock-still before Mello, who resisted the urge to recoil, staring him in the eyes. The pale jade met the stark blue and somehow Mello detected derision in the feline eyes. As if this cat was somehow superior to him.

And then it walked away; the moment somehow, Mello felt … unresolved.

'Why Chesney?' Matt persisted. Mello glanced over at him. Matt was acting … oddly. Oh well. He might have a plan.

'Um …' Charlise looked slightly flustered, and Twix suddenly entered, bombing into the room, flinging a chocolate bar at Mello and racing to place the chilled coke before Matt with something akin to reverence.

'Thanks,' Matt nodded briefly, groping out to tug the glass towards him and gulp about half of the contents, still without acknowledging the presence of anyone else in the room. Mello noticed Charlise's disapproving glare at Twix, and saw the blonde's face fall as she slunk into the seat between Austin and Cheshire.

'No, go on. Why Chesney?'

'After Kenny Chesney.' The girl looked preoccupied, and she shuffled the pages before her distractedly.

'Didn't he marry Gwyneth Paltrow in 2005?' Twix pouted as she slumped over the table. Cheshire sighed, drumming her fingers.

'Renee Zellweger, 2005, St. John's Island. If you're going to rape popular culture reference, at least do it with some class.'

Twix looked outraged; Cheshire unimpressed. Crash bit back laughter, and Charlise looked wearied.

'Look, enough, enough! Let's get down to business, at last. We have a lot to discuss,' she pointed out, turning to Crash who had gotten up and was tapping buttons on a small laptop which he then placed before Charlise. She entered a quick code, and looked expectantly towards the projector screen. Everyone followed suit, as a logo appeared gently onscreen, and some low-key choral music started to play. Mello glanced back at Charlise, who turned to regard him sincerely.

'Watch,' she told him, 'and then, you'll understand. I promise.'

She shrugged, and frail fingers tapped the keyboard.

'We're not so different, you and I,' she told him, as she expectantly watched his face. 'And I can prove it to you. Maybe then, you'll understand … perhaps more than you realise.'

And without giving him a chance to retort so much as, 'How do you know?' or 'What do you mean by that?' or even, 'Don't compare us!' she stabbed a button and climbed to her feet, and suddenly, on screen flared a large 'D'. Other letters fell into place beside it. 'E'.

'When L died, as I know he did, and Near took over, he shunned many things required by his status.'

'N'.

'He shunned responsibility. He is remarkably … selfish. Focused only on one outcome. His own success.'

'E'.

'I know you're the same, Mello. Deep down. All you really care for is winning. Beating Near. I don't blame you.'

'U'.

'We're just here because we want to beat Kira. In every case, he took something from us. Or we lost something trying to best him. In some cases, we lost everything.'

'V'.

'But we have a goal. And a plan. And we're not afraid of responsibility. United, we stand. Divided … well, you know the rest.'

'E'.

The letters stopped appearing. Mello stared at the word blankly, his brain refusing to process it. Even Matt's handheld was silent, for once.

And Charlise smiled. A beautiful, twisted smile.

'We joined. We combined. We decided how we want the world to be. And we strive to fulfil our goals. However, we have a few tricks up our sleeve …'

And she tapped a button on the remote control in her hand, so that the spaced letters contricted to form the one word. Deneuve.

Standing before the projector screen, leaning heavily on the metallic cane in her right hand, she spoke loudly. Confidently. Boldly.

'When Near took over, he shunned responsibility. I noticed. I acted. And I became Deneuve. And when everyone else joined, then we became Deneuve. So it's nice to meet you. Fitting too. Failures unite, and all that …'

She laughed shortly, self-consciously, and looked down. When she looked back up, there was much less bravado in her than there was a deep, weary sadness.

'Because. We're all just second best too. No. Not even. Really, you're second best. We're not even that. We, collectively, are third-best. But either way, us failures and drop-outs and criminal masterminds … we're about to turn this world upside down. And to ask you to help us. To make the name Deneuve surpass even that of L. To help us, and in doing so ensure that you, too, will … win. For sure.'

xXx

Where I come from isn't all that great
My automobile is a piece of crap
My fashion sense is a little whack
And my friends are just as screwy as me ...
- Beverly Hills, Weezer

A/N: Soooo ... from this chapter we have learned something. Always stock chocolate, in case of Mello's imminent arrival. Beware the red-heads. And if you want me to go on ... REVIEW, MAI LAVS!
-Wraithlike xxx