Watery-colored eyes squinted open for the first time since she was knocked out as Ilya regained her consciousness for a moment. She only saw black. 'That's right, they put a blindfold on me . . .'

Her mind was hazy, and slowly moved her hands to test for the rope. Unfortunately, it had been replaced by handcuffs, which worried Ilya since it was originally a police fixture.

Her ears, however, were intact and easily picked a roaring sound. It reminded her of a plane. Could . . . could she have been put on a plane?!

Slowly, wave of exhaustion washed over her and Ilya Ryder found herself being lulled back to sleep by the thunderous noise outside.

Wakey-wakey, Ilya!!

Mumbles and loud laughs greeted Ilya's ears. Drowsily, she rolled over stuffing her face back into the pillow.

. . . Wait- pillow?!

Wide-eyed, she pushed herself up off the sheets. Ilya Ryder scanned the khaki-colored room only to find it pain-staking normal. She eyed the dirty door, which was still opened a crack.

Even through her sudden panic, she felt relief. This wasn't the police. Which meant, her name couldn't be leaked. It was just some low-scale kidnappers, most likely. Why Ilya became their target, she didn't know.

Creak, went the step outside the door. Instantly and soundlessly, Ilya lay back in the bed. However, if you looked close enough you could tell her eyes were still were opened in a slit-like way.

The thumps of the footsteps rang threw her like a clocks chimes. Rather discreetly, she crinkled her nose and nudged over sleepily. Was that believable enough?

"'Ey, I know 'yer awake."

'Dammit', her mind hissed. Ilya moved her hand ever so slightly to her lower back. Her fingers searched ever so stealthily, but did not caress the handle of a gun, or the belt that held it there.

After a grunt, the man trotted out of the room. Ilya shifted up again, pulling up her shirt over her bellybutton. No belt, no gun. The black-haired miss then felt around her legs. No knives.

Ilya stiffened, now realizing she had no weapons. When and how the kidnappers took them off, she didn't know either. These abductors didn't seem so much like amateurs anymore . . .

"I told 'ya Mello, she's up!"

And their eyes connected. Ilya froze up, being absorbed into her own mind. Indecisive was the best word to describe Ilya at the moment.

'What . . . What should I do? What can I do? I cant make any moves. Now, of course, it's too late for me to do anything!'

Ilya bit her lip, unable to look away from the blonde's sharp turquoise optics. On further inspection, he was tall and muscular, although, he didn't look as muscular as the first man. His build was that of a tennis-player, rather than a football-player. However, the look he was giving her somehow told Ilya that he wasn't going to play either. He meant business.

He had golden blonde hair that tucked under his chin, and bangs that hung around those sharp, sharp, sharp eyes. He wore all leather and a rosary around his tanned neck.

"Leave, Miller."

The man grunted respecting the other man's decision, and with the slam of a door, vacated the room.

"Rider. Its a pleasure to meet you. "

He said, eyes never leaving her own. Ilya felt so small under his gaze. So helpless. So vulnerable. So weak.

And Ilya Ryder didn't like that, at all.

"Who are you?!"

She said, biting her tongue from saying anything else. Ilya got off the bed, taking a step forward.

"Mello, my name is Mello."

"Mel . . . oh."

The name rolled off her tongue in an almost pleasurable way. Mello. Now only 5 or so feet away from him, she could see that she was at least a head shorter than him.

"Well, Mello, what are you going to do now? You've found me, are you going to turn me in? Force me to blow something up? Rape me? Somehow revenge your loved ones who might've died in an explosion detonated by me? Whats your purpose, Mello?!"

The dark-haired female listed, a hint of frustration behind her words. He stared back at her, bemused and amused by her antics.

"None of the above, Ilya. You're becoming part of my mafia."

He said, smirking. Ilya's eyes flashed in irritation. This blondie sure had some guts to tell the Rider that!

Really this time!

"Oh? Make me."

Ilya stepped closer, chin up defiantly. Mello's smirk was still plastered on his face, despite Ilya's attempts at shaking his concentration.

"What if Kira found out your name, by a certain unnamed source. What then, Ilya Ryder?"

"Kira needs a face and a name to kill. Thats what!"

"You seemed to forgot that your picture is everywhere. Your school, security cameras, and even now I could take your picture."

Miffed, Ilya stepped closer, eyes flitting from the top left corners and the down. Mello's smirk widened.

"You're unsure. And you know I'm right, don't you? . . . But, Rider, you left out one major fact."

At this, he paused to step closer so that Ilya's head was less than a foot away from his chin.

"We're all just like you, Rider, we're all criminals. Just like you. The boys down there have some form of kinship towards you, you know."

Ilya frowned tightly, now intently focused on the floor. Kinship? Is that what you would call it? The only person Ilya would consider to have kinship was Charlotte.

"Kinship, in the way that we're all the bad guys in this game, and we're all running from the same force. Kira. Especially me and you."

"Hmm?"

"Rider is the one felon Kira couldn't catch; he got too cocky and tried killing you on national TV, and lost. Even after time, he killed the renowned L. But, hes been after you since you started your business, and has only came close once. As for me, you can do your own research."

Mello explained, his breath rolling against her forehead. And after a moment's delegation, Ilya replied.

"I'm only cooperating with the Mafia to bring down Kira. Thats all."