Author's Note: Hello! A quick shout-out to my loyal reviewers, WildfireDreams and WhiteLadyDragon, and those who followed this story. Thank you EvilRandomCrazyPerson, FireWolfAbianvi, Hetomi, WhiteLadyDragon, and draconisnoire43! Your support means a lot to me.

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, as it includes probably one of the most awkward (and dangerous) meetings ever. Also, enjoy more BB. He gets kind of creepy in this chapter (just in case he wasn't creepy enough already).

Warnings: Dead Bodies, Violence, Voyeurism, Profanity.

Chapter 6: As the Buzzing of a Wasp

Today was not a good day.

Beyond Birthday was tired of eating the stale granola bars he had taken from home. Sure, he had managed to find a fair amount of canned goods and water bottles hidden in the basement of one of the houses a few streets back—as well as some preserved jars of strawberry jam to replenish the supply he had stolen before swimming the mile to Los Angeles from an Alaskan boat. (He was almost certain the old grocery store clerk he had taken them from originally would never notice.)

Yet endless repetition was nearly maddening. Despite his love for the fruity preserves, having so much to consume was a bit pressuring.

Some would say that this was the least of his problems, however.

Right now, B was on the lookout for another sample. Since the blonde woman he had saved last week, B had been wandering up and down the streets of Los Angeles; he only traveled at night, and made sure to stick to the shadows. B loved the dark, and even though some of the infected were wandering the streets again, he knew that he would fare just perfectly. As long as he stayed in the dark, he would be able to take down any rabid human before it could get him.

But at that moment, he was just searching for a place to spend the night.

B was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the noise until he was right in front of the building.

Raucous laughter and cheers came from inside the large establishment, strings of choice words playing tetherball with B's eardrums.

The man started, excitement striking through him as though a match had been lit.

People! There are real, uninfected people here!

But he didn't dare go inside—not yet, at least. There was no logical way for him to kidnap someone from so crowded a place; he would have to wait for it to die down a bit.

B casually glanced up at the sign above the entrance. Waterfront Inn & Casino. Hmm. Strange name. Oh, well. I guess I'll have to find someplace to stay down the street. I do need my privacy, after all.

A few blocks down, B happened upon a filthy-looking lake.

How disgusting. I bet all of the people around here relieve or bathe themselves in it. No, thank you.

Absentmindedly, the maniac looked across the street—and there, in all of its underappreciated glory, was a large building dubbed Santa Maria High School. B idly wondered if he should risk going inside—would there be a lot of people in there, squatting?

If there are, I can just hide and kill them off one by one.

With that pleasant thought B waltzed across the street, weaving between and around the empty (and thankfully sparse) cars. Unsurprisingly, the front doors were locked; B went around to the staff parking lot, and climbed expertly over the chain-link fence.

And he was in.

Whistling a merry tune, Beyond Birthday traipsed down the gum-riddled hallways, the pungent scent of mildew and rat feces making his nostrils itch. He walked around the school until he reached the cafeteria.

It was vacant, completely abandoned save for the communities of rodents and cockroaches that had congregated in the cracked tiles.

I wonder why no one is here, he mused as he maneuvered around the lunch tables, heading towards the door marked STAFF. There's bound to be food or water back here.

That door was unlocked—well, technically it had been picked, but badly enough to have rendered the lock essentially useless.

When B stepped inside, he understood why nobody was in here.

The scent of decaying remains amidst a fainter odor of spoiled milk set off a switch in his brain, and his keen eyes immediately found the source. Anyone else would have vomited at the sight, he was certain.

Two skeletons, one small and feeble, the other of a more adult size, were lying spread-eagled in the center of the room. The bigger one appeared to be clutching the other close to itself, as if it were terrified of letting it go. Although the flesh of both had long since been rotted away by decomposers, dark bloodstains still sat under their bodies.

Cans of food that had been either dropped or knocked over were scattered all over the floor, as were old school lunches that remained unwrapped. Someone had left in a hurry—but it was obviously a long time ago.

Well, it doesn't matter. What matters is if any of this food is still edible. I cannot afford to be picky.

B began checking the expiration dates on all of the fallen cans: some of them were still good; others had long since gone bad. Still others, namely the vegetables, were bloated and bulbous on the tops and bottoms, and those B put aside. He had no wish to die of botulism.

B's day was made when he spied something that gleamed out of the corner of his eye. On the floor next to the adult skeleton's hand was…

…a set of keys? Curious. He picked them up, scanning them thoroughly. A small slip of paper had been taped to one of them.

It read, in clear black handwriting:

CHEM LAB A

Reynoso

A chemistry lab…how delightful! I dabbled in some chemistry texts and experiments at Wammy's House a few years back. I wonder if there are any chemicals left in there. I may have found a perfect place to conduct more experiments…

As Beyond Birthday sat next to the deceased bodies of a father and child in gleeful anticipation, a most glorious and fruitful idea entered his mind.

A most glorious idea indeed.

"Who the hell are you?"

When the man responded, his voice was monotone and smooth as the buzzing of a wasp. "I do not think it appropriate for you to address me in such a callous manner. I have not done anything insulting to you, have I?"

Lana glared daggers at the man. "You're insulting me by being up here! And I wouldn't act so high and mighty if I were you. You're not in a very good position."

The stranger cocked his shaggy head, but his impassive expression did not change. "And why is that?"

"I know who you are. Agent Misora showed me a picture of you."

"Did she? You have come in contact with Agent Misora?"

He took a step forward, and the fighter reflexively tensed.

"And what did she tell you?"

"That you were a dangerous criminal. Luckily I'm used to beating the crap out of people like you."

Yes, Lana was putting on an arrogant façade—but who wouldn't, in that situation? Yet the man didn't seem fazed in the slightest, and this, coupled with his unusual manner of speaking, unnerved her.

"I noticed that. I saw you fighting not too long ago. It would have been quite entertaining, were I entertained by such things and not already preoccupied with someone else."

The brunette growled. "Shut it. Stop changing the subject."

"You are correct. Perhaps speaking to you is a waste of my time. You are obviously close-minded to have believed that I am a criminal based on the testimony of one person whom you do not know well. In any case, I can find Agent Misora perfectly well on my own."

The bizarre stranger turned away from her, resuming his apparent search for the FBI agent.

"No!" Lana fumed, and before she realized what she was doing, she had pounced at him.

She tightly gripped his white shirt, slamming him harshly into the wall next to her. Her hands fisted up the cloth by his collar, holding him in place.

"I'm not going to let you hurt her." She's my only way out of here.

The man stared coldly down at her; he didn't even look surprised. He stared at her scraped knuckles, still completely calm—but his voice was ominous. "I must warn you: I am much stronger than I look. I do not wish to hurt you."

"Right back at you. Agree to walk away right now and I'll let you go."

He blinked once, his dark eyes boring into her own. "I am afraid that is impossible, given the circumstances. I did warn you."

With a surge of strength that did not fit the appearance of his skinny body, the slouched man shook Lana off of him, shoving her a few feet away. She barely managed to avoid the head kick that he aimed at her right after, dodging under it and retaliating with a body kick of her own.

He caught her foot, pulling it close to his abdomen and catching the brunette off guard. She growled, yanking her foot away.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked, a bored tone to his voice.

"Not even close."

There was no way she was going to let this creep go anywhere near Agent Misora.

She ran at him, feinting a left hook. He reached up to block it—

-only to be caught off guard by a sickening thud from her right fist. At the last minute, he had managed to dodge the worst of the hit, but he was still forced backward. His back hit the wall just as Lana registered the sound of three pairs of footsteps coming quietly up the stairs.

The door behind them opened, and the pair turned to look at the people who had entered. Lana's stomach sank to her feet.

Light, Itzel, and Aizawa all stood in front of them; a grim expression enveloped the Hispanic woman's face as she stood next to Light, whose emotionless mask seemed to spell doom for all those who dared to cross him.

Oh, no.

"Emerson, what is going on here?"

"I…I was just…."

"Picking a fight with one of our customers? Granted, he is not allowed to be up here, but do you think it is within your jurisdiction to be calling the shots?"

Lana's mouth was dry as a bone.

"Aizawa, take out your gun."

Oh, no. Oh shit.

The frizzy-haired henchman hesitated, staring at the scarred woman with an expression akin to panic.

"Aizawa! I said to take out your gun."

Slowly, the Afro-man obeyed, removing his pistol from the waistband of his pants.

"Now point it at Shankman."

"No!" Lana protested. "No way! Why her? She didn't do anything!"

Aizawa obeyed reluctantly, his hand shaking.

"It doesn't matter," Light said. "You went against me. I can no longer trust you, Emerson. Or Shankman, for that matter, since you two seem to be very close."

"So she is guilty by association?" The stranger had stayed quiet up until that point, but now he spoke up, seeming genuinely curious.

Light gave a toxic smile. "Of course. You must understand completely, sir. I cannot maintain dissidence in my employees."

"So you're just going to blow our heads off?!" Lana looked over at her best friend of seven years, who was attempting to maintain a stoic mask. The brunette could sense her fear, though.

"Oh, no. Of course not. How would that be just? I merely want to make an example out of you two—you, Emerson, in particular." He stepped closer to Lana, the tapping of his dress shoes the only sound that she could hear aside from her own pulse. "I want to give you a choice, Emerson. You can either stay here with Shankman, and I will have Aizawa blow both of your brains out. Or," Lana could feel his sour breath on her face, "you can leave here. Alone. And never come back. A slow, painful death should be much more fitting for you than the quick one brought about by a bullet, no?"

Lana could feel her insides twisting and warping painfully around her heart. She had never seen Light like this. She had seen him get angry on several occasions, but now...he seemed far too calm for her liking. It was disturbing.

"So what will it be? Do you want your friend to die?"

"How do I know you won't kill her anyway, once I leave?"

"I'll be fine, girly!" Itzel interjected, her voice panicked. "Just get outta here!"

"You heard her. She's made a good point, don't you think?"

"Think about it logically, Emerson." The criminal from Naomi's picture spoke up again, his voice still nonchalant. "If you stay, you both have a guaranteed one hundred percent chance of dying. If you leave, you both have an approximate three-point-eight-six percent chance of staying alive for at least three months."

"I hate to agree with this jackass, but he makes a good point." Itzel snarled. Lana mentally agreed with her.

Light now eyed the intruder with mild annoyance. "And what exactly are you doing here, Mr…?"

"Ryuuzaki."

"Mr. Ryuuzaki. Are you aware that customers are not allowed to be up here without my permission?"

"While I freely admit that I was conscious of the fact that my intrusion was a possible violation of privacy, I was not personally informed that it was forbidden."

Wow. He can bullshit with the best of them.

Whether or not Light sensed the man's obvious fib (Lana was convinced he did), he did not seem to care. "If you will be so kind as to leave now, Mr. Ryuuzaki, I still have some business to attend to with my employees."

With a cold glance at her boss—Lana got the distinct impression that he didn't like the bronze-haired man very much—Ryuuzaki retreated downstairs, leaving the other four people alone.

"Emerson, have you made your choice?"

She gulped. "I have. When do you want me to leave?"

"Tomorrow at first light would be the latest. Take some time to pack up your things—I have no need for any of your mementos. And if I even see you anywhere near here after that time…I will kill you myself."

The next day, approximately 4:32 a.m.

Though she was still in a state of numb shock, Lana's body seemed to be processing her emotional turmoil quite well. Only her hands were shaking as she undid the bow on her sweatpants. She dropped the gray cloth in the grass by the lake, and waded waist-deep into the water. As the cold liquid hugged her, she allowed herself to savor the feeling one last time. This would most likely be her last chance to bathe at all for a long time—if not forever.

All of this trouble just because I lost my cool at Takada's antagonism. How could I have acted so rashly? I thought I'd learned my lesson. I knew what could happen…am I really that stupid? Apparently so…

I need to find somewhere else to go, but where? I can't just wander around aimlessly, not with the fences broken like Stripes said. I'll either get infected or killed.

What's going to happen to me? I don't know, but I won't let myself die. I can get through this.

I will survive.

So caught up was Lana in her bath time musings that she did not take notice of the pair of eyes that were watching her.

They stared intently at her from the second story of the high school across the street, watching the movements of her naked back.

And they wanted to see more.

B was bored.

He was bored of doing nothing but sitting in the abandoned chemistry lab, merely thinking about killing and draining the blood of the infected. He was bored with the constant search for more of the dying, now that he knew that there was a large group of perfectly viable living people right down the street.

He was bored of doing his work; he needed a break. More than anything, he needed to feel alive for a moment.

But the only way to do that was to target someone healthy and living…but who?

From where B was standing in the lab station, it seemed as though an angel had granted his wish.

He had been looking through the grimy window, watching the disgustingly ironic beauty of the poisoned lake across the street, when he saw a woman with dark hair. She was walking towards the large body of water, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a wife beater.

How curious. Not many people go outside during the day. I wonder what she is up to.

B's question was answered when she began stripping herself of all of her clothes, placing each article on the ground in a neat pile. His eyes widened, having never seen a fully naked woman before.

He was not disappointed, but more surprised that he wasn't. He had never given any real thought to the notion of female attractiveness in a traditional sense; more in a kind of sadistic way. This image proved him wrong.

Although he could not see her face from this distance, what with her back turned to him, he was able to decipher the contours of her feminine frame—and they were quite delightful, to say the least. Perhaps she was not as alluring as the enchanting image of slicing into someone's body, but she was captivating nonetheless.

Her curves were soft, but still looked firm and tan. What a fine specimen. It would be amazing to cut into those curves…to watch her scream…

B felt himself getting flustered as he thought about how even more beautiful she would look dripping with blood, and how erotic her cries for mercy would be.

He stopped his very gratifying train of thought as he observed her getting out of the lake, slipping her clothes back onto her rapidly drying body. She walked back the way she had come, and B watched her until she disappeared inside the same building he had wandered by last night.

So that's where she lives. Perfect. This will make it much easier, even if there are other people around.

The excited man spun around on his heels, surveying the myriads of chemicals and scientific tools he had at his disposal. Most of them were caked with dust and allergens, but they would do.

He began flying around the room, picking up beakers, test tubes, and plastic bottles filled with an array of unknown liquids and powders. Even if he did not have all the chemicals in the world, B knew he had enough amassed chemical knowledge from Wammy's House to be able to make do with what he did have.

It was time to put his training to good use.

"Light? Where are you?"

Kiyomi Takada was pissed off.

She also had a broken nose and a busted lip, as well as a vicious migraine running rampant through her skull.

She had woken up this morning after the fight to a slap on the cheek. Even though Piper had only been trying to rouse her, she had still chewed the curly-haired woman out viciously.

Now she was busy looking for the man whose harebrained plan (though she would never say it to his face) had fallen through. She had a broken nose, for Christ's sake!

"Light!" she yelled once more, knocking on his private bedroom on the eighth floor—the room she rarely got to see. He was a very private man. It would have been a cause for concern for the short-haired woman—the fact that he did not want her in his room—were she to not already count herself lucky that he had chosen her in the first place. He was a powerful, charismatic man, after all, and Takada was attracted to power. She always had been; and the mere fact that he was helping to keep her alive was an added bonus.

"Light? Are you in there?"

There was a short silence; then, "Come in, Takada."

She stepped inside, the scent of cologne adrift in the air. Light was standing in front of the full-body mirror reserved for the suite rooms, looking pristine as always.

Takada, meanwhile, was fuming. "What the hell happened back there, Light? I thought we agreed that you were going to tell her to lose to me so I could kill her!"

"I did, my dear. She just disobeyed."

"So kill her now, then. I saw her go downstairs to bathe a few minutes ago. Are you going to allow her to stay here?"

"Of course not. She shall be expelled tomorrow, or she will be killed immediately."

Takada gaped like a fish. "Why? Why are you giving her a chance to survive? I know she deserves to suffer, but I would much rather you just shoot her in the head and get on with our plans. She is too much of a nuisance." Something suddenly dawned on her. "Unless…you've got something else up your sleeve?"

Light gave an impressed smile. "I agree. I always thought she was too nosy for her own good—and the fact that she was eavesdropping on our discussion of our plans for Agent Misora clinches that."

The bronze man turned to face her, cupping her cheek with one hand. "However, I always did like a chase. I will send Aizawa out after her. The next day, her dead body will be out in front of this building to serve as a warning to all those who may have thought of leaving or defecting. We'll show them that they truly are much better off here than out there. Isn't that right, Takada?"

L had seen a lot of things, and hidden in a lot of unsavory places for the purpose of solving a case, but his current location took the figurative cake. He could safely say that he had never been forced to hide out in an alcohol storeroom.

It hadn't been difficult to infiltrate, however. The detective had simply snuck past the upbeat bartender while his back was turned.

And now, hours later, he was stuffed uncomfortably between the counter and an ancient liquor cabinet that smelled faintly of rotted wood, pondering his next course of action.

I must talk to Naomi. But how? I cannot reveal my presence to the owner without risk of being thrown out, or worse. He is quite a barrier; if we were anywhere else in the world I would have liked to have him arrested by now. In any case, I need to find someone else. The bartender? Hm. Maybe not. I am not so sure he would readily betray his boss. He seems to genuinely fear the man.

As it turned out, L didn't need to do anything.

Before he could move, the door to the storeroom was shouldered open by a short blonde girl with two small pigtails atop her head. She headed for the liquor cabinet, stopping mid-reach when she saw the odd man crouching beside it.

The girl shrieked, her hands going up to clutch at her chest.

"Excuse me," he said politely.

"W-who are you?!"

"Sorry to startle you. You see, I am stuck."

"Really? How'd that happen? You weren't trying to steal booze, were you? Light will get mad!" Her voice was high and cheerful, and it grated on L's ears.

"Certainly not. I do not drink alcohol; the taste is far too bitter. I merely got lost while I was looking for someone. Tell me: do you know of a woman here named Naomi Misora?"

The girl placed her chin in her hand. L supposed it was intended to be a thoughtful gesture, but it looked very out of place on her.

Her eyes brightened. "Hey, yeah! She got here not too long ago! Why? You guys lovers or something?"

L sighed mentally. "Yes."

The blonde squealed. "Awww! I'm happy to go find her for you, if you want! Just stay here!"

And she was gone.

L sighed out loud, musing on everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. This case was working out better than he'd expected. He had managed to locate Agent Misora in record time. Of course, he was also nearly shot to death by the owner of the establishment that was harboring her—though he considered that to be a minor setback.

Another minor setback was the fact that his face was beginning to swell from that scarred woman's punch. What was her name again? Emerson?

L had to admit, she did pack some significant power in her punches and kicks, though he reasoned that that was to be expected from someone who had been living in a society reduced to cage fights and drinking for entertainment. It almost made him want to go one-on-one with her, if only to see if she could beat him.

But that was just his competitive nature: he hated losing. It bothered him that she had landed a hit on him without him getting to reciprocate.

Oh, well. I have other, more important, things to worry about.

In less than five minutes, the blonde girl had returned, the dark-haired FBI agent in tow.

It was definitely her, even if she was somewhat dirty and her clothes marginally stiff.

And from the look on her face when she laid eyes on him, she recognized him as well.

"You!" she yelled, immediately reaching into her belt and drawing her gun.

The blonde girl shrieked again.

"Get out of here!" Naomi demanded of the girl; she quickly did as she was told.

Misora kept her gun trained on the ground, but L knew she was ready to shoot him square between the eyes if need be.

"Beyond Birthday, you are under arrest for the murders of Quarter Queen, Backyard Bottomslash, and Believe Bridesmaid, and for conspiracy to commit murder and a mass extinction event through the use of biological warfare."

I see. She believes that I am B. Why does everyone think we look alike?

"Pardon me, Agent Misora, but I am not Beyond Birthday. As a matter of fact, I am looking for him as well."

Lana's hair was finally clean. The dry shampoo may have smelled like processed baby powder, but at least it served its purpose.

As she headed downstairs to go sit at the bar, she spotted Matsuda diligently cleaning the counters.

"Hey, Matsuda."

"What's up, Em?"

Lana smiled sadly. "Nothing much. Just wanted one last drink before I gotta leave. Think you could do that for me?"

Matsuda frowned, his eyebrows creasing. "What happened? You're leaving?"

"Got kicked out."

"Why? Is it because you beat Takada? But—"

"Don't try to argue, okay? What's done is done. I did something stupid, and now I have to deal with it. I survived this long, didn't I?"

The bartender's eyes were glassy. "Sure, Em." He sniffed. "So what do you want to drink?"

"Can I just get a strong shot of vodka? I don't want to be drunk today."

"Sure thing. Bottle's in the back. I'll go get it real quick."

Out of nowhere, a shrieking Misa burst through the door to the storeroom, dashing past the duo.

"Misa?" Matsuda asked, concerned. He went over to the door, and when he opened it, let out a yelp. "What the?"

"Matsuda? What is it?"

Lana went around to look inside, pushing in front of him.

She nearly gasped.

Agent Misora was holding a gun—and the barrel was pointed at the feet of the disheveled man from earlier. Ryuuzaki, he'd said his name was. The two didn't seem to care that they were being watched; Naomi was busy questioning the pale man.

"You came here yourself to catch Beyond Birthday? That can't be…how do I know you are who you say you are?"

"Do you want verbal proof? Let's see…I know you are an FBI agent engaged to Raye Penber."

"Anyone could know that. It's public news. We were engaged months before Beyond Birthday left."

Beyond Birthday? Who's that?
"Okay then. Something only I would know…I know that you stole a jet from London City Airport precisely four days ago. Would B know that?"

Agent Misora's hand relaxed slightly on the pistol. "It can't be…"

"I have only been here myself for less than a day. My food rations are barely touched, if you care to check. Do I look as if I have been living here for two months, Agent Misora?"

All was silent in the storeroom but for the barrage of questions in Lana's brain.

So…if he isn't this criminal, this so-called "Beyond Birthday," then…

Who is he?

Lana didn't have time to wonder for long.

Because at that exact moment, a deafening BOOM ripped through the entire building, sending shards of plaster and wood beams cascading around the room.

And her vision was obscured by fire.

I figured: Hey, B's a smart guy. He probably has at least some basic knowledge of chemistry (and trust me, that's all you need to blow some shit up). I hope you enjoy this lovely cliffhanger; I'll probably end a lot of my chapters that way. I think it flows nicely.

As always, keep on reading and reviewing! I look forward to any comments/feedback anyone has.

-Vicious Ventriloquist