When I Was Twenty-Three
I ran up the stairs of the old apartment building on light feet, my gun drawn and ready. BB's next victim was supposed to be here. After always being one step behind, L has finally cornered the murderer and has sent me out to retrieve him before he can commit his next murder. Having been L's operative for years now, this is no problem for me.
Entering the apartment, I clear the area and head directly for the back rooms. Breaking through the door of the second bedroom I see L standing in front of the window, hunched over and looking out at the LA skyline. The sight of him out in the open is jarring, considering he never goes out on assignments.
He slowly turns his head to look at me in an eerie way that makes me take a cautionary step backwards. He's like a puppet with all the strings cut. An unreadable grin tugs at his lips and the light in his eyes shine dangerously like shards of broken glass. This is wrong, I think to myself, my heart gripping tightly in my chest. There's something amiss about him, lots of little things, such as the light make-up smudges on the collar of his white shirt, the strange ruby red stains under his fingernails, and his stubby-toed feet that look uncomfortable being out of shoes. This was not L. No, this was someone else- someone I haven't seen for quite some time.
"… B?" I say, slowly training my gun on him.
"So you figured it out?" He says calmly before letting loose a hollow, practiced laugh. The unfeeling sound makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
"L figured it out, but I'm the one who's going to bring you in," I tell him. It feels like the bottom of my stomach was going to fall out any minute. There's something strange in the air that makes me want to wretch. It's a familiar, sweet smell that burns in my nose.
"He sent you here alone? How like L," he says with a mocking smile. It's like he knows something I don't, like any second he was going to turn the tables on me. What can it be? I think to myself. I have to figure out what he's going to do. Otherwise, it's game over.
"Misora and the FBI will be here soon. But given the delicate circumstances of your identity, I'd rather take you in myself. You're under arrest, B," I tell him.
"Not yet," he chides, wagging a spidery finger at me. "There's still one murder left."
I tighten my grip on the gun, my finger slipping closer to the trigger. I'm not going to let him get in my head. "Where is the fourth victim, Beyond?" I demand.
He doesn't answer me. Instead he keeps talking in that frightening impression of L's voice. It's clear he wants to unravel my nerves. "Why are you doing this, B?"
"It's for L, of course. Every hero needs a villain, Orphan. L was always the hero wasn't he? So my role is clearly the villain... the world's greatest criminal. I have to beat him. The one who surpasses L," he says, taking a step towards me.
"Don't move!" I sternly warn him, pointing the gun right at his chest with conviction.
"... Am I making you uncomfortable? It's something about that fourth victim isn't it? Makes your hands itch…" I feel my heart grip in my chest once more. Beyond tilts his head and smiles a fake smile. "I'm not the only one who's here for L, though. Am I right?"
"Shut up!" I yell. That visceral reaction seemed to come out of nowhere, and for a split second, betrayed my every emotion. My cheeks are burning bright red and I can see B knows he has control now.
"You're his man on the ground, an extension of his person, the queen on the chess board that does whatever the hand above it commands. You are so close to him aren't you? Yet, at the same time, you're never as close as you want to be."
"Shut up!" I yell, angry he would even pretend to know how I feel about L. "Who is the next victim, B?"
His answer is simple. "You are."
My heart stops and suddenly I'm getting tunnel vision. My mind is screaming at me to run but I don't. Instead I decide to cling to the slim chance that he's bluffing, that I can outsmart him, and continue to point my gun at him.
Now he's anxiously rubbing his fingers together, like he's crushing something between them in his excitement. His plan has nearly come to fruition and the absence of strawberry jam is most likely getting to him. "I don't have my usual tools so I'm going to take it nice and slow with you. L will be mad if I don't show you due respect, you are a Wammy prodigy after all," he explains.
"I want to know… is this personal?"
"Between you and me...? No. But you are a means to a perfect end to this battle between L and I. You are neither a detective nor a criminal. You are an operative. Operatives are tools… and tools get used."
My heart is about to explode and I almost pull the trigger when a voice rings out from the front of the apartment. "FBI! Come out with your hands up!"
"In here!" I yell hoarsely, wanting nothing more than to get away from this monster.
B regards me with those shining black eyes, those sharp-as-glass stars dancing within them. "Oh, I guess we're out of time," he says with false regret. "Too bad. Have fun chasing L… I sure did."
With that, he reaches down and pulls a lighter from his jeans pocket and snaps the flame on. The bedroom door slams open just in time for Misora and I to see Beyond go up in flames. That sweet smell from earlier, it was lamp oil.
"Get Back!" Misora yells, grabbing the collar of my coat and yanking me away from him. Soon the room begins to catch alight and I come to my senses. I'm stumbling backwards, out of the way of the growing inferno. B cackles out in manacle joy as he goes up in flame but soon he's screaming in sheer agony. The sound pierces my heart and sends me running towards him.
"What are you doing!" Misora cries as I rip off my long coat and throw it and myself atop B. We collapse onto the wood floor and I am frantically batting the fabric to extinguish the flames. B's animal cries from under the coat are the only thing I can hear as Misora pulls me off of him.
"We'll die too if we don't get out!" She says, choking on smoke.
I know I can save him, though the flames are all around us. I grab onto his wrist to drag him out with us but the charred flesh peels off like a glove, burning me as I'm pulled away to safety. B is left in the room to die, to burn to death. Perhaps he thinks it's his punishment for not surpassing L.
LvBB LvBB LvBB LvBB LvBB LvBB
"It turns out that B intended himself to be the fourth victim," Misora says to one of her comrades, as we watch B being loaded into the back of the ambulance.
It turns out that he had somehow survived the fire. I don't dare think that it was because of my efforts. A part of me is angry at myself for even attempting it. B is a sociopath and a murderer, why the sudden urge to show him mercy? … And was it even an act of mercy to begin with? For some reason I doubted it.
I don't bother telling Misora B said I was to be the fourth victim. If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that Wammy children are liars… all of us. We conceal facts, use trickery, and play with emotions, all to conceal our true intentions… L is a liar, I am a liar, so was A and B is too.
A policeman then approaches and informs us that B's critically injured, not to mention maimed by his suicide attempt. He's to be detained at the hospital until he is well enough to be transferred to prison. With his injuries, escaping custody is impossible. Misora and I both agree that that's fine. The likelihood of him surviving is slim anyways. At any rate, it doesn't really matter, my job is done and so is L's. It appears my attachment to B is nothing now.
It seems that the pressure of being L's successor had broken him, just as it had broken A. But B never wanted to be L, he railed against it the moment he recognized the futility in attempting it. None of us are L's match and we always knew it. B hated the idea of modeling himself after L so much, he wanted to transform into an anti-L. It seems that this new persona had consumed him.
A limo pulls up to the curb and I know it's for me. Watari steps out of the back seat and holds the door open for me. Not bothering to check out with the FBI or LA police, I head over to the car. Like I said, my job is done.
Once we're both inside, the car door gets pulled shut and I look out the window at the ambulance. A lone tear rolls down my cheek and I bite my lip to stave off more from coming. I feel a shift in weight beside me and an arm around my shoulders. I peer over to find Watari regarding me with those gentle, aged eyes. He looks at me as if I am a child he wishes he could spare from the pains of this world. How I wish he could. But I am no longer a child and this is the life I have chosen for myself.
Nursing my burned hand, I take comfort in knowing that L is safe… L is safe, Watari is safe, and the people of LA are safe. B is just one more monster slain… one of thousands. Justice doesn't sleep, it doesn't pity, and it certainly doesn't weep.
"Don't cry," Watari comforts, gently squeezing my shoulders.
"I'm not," I say, coldly flicking away the tear hanging from my jaw. B was family up until the moment he wasn't. All who's left now is Watari and L.
So that's the end of this round of flashbacks :) next chapter is "Day 3" of L's last 23 days :_( ... don't expect flowers and sunshine. Sorry, I seem to be writing quite the downer but I thank you all so much for your support and wonderful reviews! Keep it up and I hope to have the next chapter out sooner than this one.