Honestly, I should be finishing my homework for my Deviant Criminal Behavior class, but all this thinking about serial killers suddenly makes me want to write more than ever! I've been on a long hiatus, and I apologize for being gone so long, but I assure you I have one hell of an interesting time, been from Rome to London, met a few people along the way and ta-da! I'm back!
As always, I adore the reviews! They inspire me to write even more (not so subtle hint here) and I delight in seeing that there are a few others out there that enjoy this fic. I've continued to get responses and reviews in my absence and I truly appreciate it!Thank you so very much for your time, and if you make me feel guilty enough, I post faster ;)
This chapter does not have non-con, however there are extreme acts of violence and if you're sensitive to graphic depictions of it...you might want to skip ahead again...but everything from here on out will fall under dub-con if not non-con. Consider this the point where things get excessively dark.
And yes...I speaks only enough Portuguese to understand what the hell the instructor in Capoeira class is carrying on about...in case you were curious! Meia-lua de compasso is a signature move that I've wounded myself many times in my attempts to master it. For those wishing to learn the Brazilian martial art, I should warn that it involves a lot of pain and injury...raising guppies is far safer!
Ira furor brevis est: animum rege: qui nisi paret imperat. Anger is momentary madness, so control your passion or it will control you.
Why did he keep the older man prisoner, instead of killing him? Raito had a hard time answering that question for himself. At first, he had imagined that he wanted more time to consider how to torment the detective, but as the weeks began to drag by, that hadn't been it at all. After the incident where he had almost strangled the defenseless man, Raito had been overwhelmed with lust at the extent of power he held over his previous enemy. L had held him captive, questioned him for days on end and chained him to his side, all the while the teenager had been dissected and controlled with fears of imprisonment and execution. There is something intensely satisfying and enjoyable in the need to prove his ultimate dominance over L, to put him through the same level of terror he had felt. Society currently held tight to the theory that Kira was a criminal, but that was slowly changing with every day that went by. The very concept of anyone stopping Kira had started to slowly evolve into the accepted possibilities that he was a necessary evil, a cure to all that had started to go wrong in an uncertain world.
L was the embodiment of his victory in the meantime, and the brunet longs to savor it for as long as possible. Anything Raito wanted from L, is now his to do with as he pleases, be it the detective's fear, body or life. Watching L tremble in terror and helplessness is a decidedly better compensation for all of his trouble than witnessing the detective suffer a short, fatal heart attack. After all, death would signal a halt to their game, and then what fun would that be? There had been a steady evident horror in those wide eyes the moment L had come to realize that death was not the only thing to be feared anymore. Raito closes his eyes and thrills the moment mere memory fills his mind, tingling at the thoughts of trembling flesh, the sight of his mortal enemy submitting beneath him and begging for his life.
He longs to break the detective down slowly, a fraction at a time until there is nothing but Kira's will alone in that stubborn head. L's physical demise could wait until after his spirit had been crushed, and he had no choice but to accept his humiliation and defeat by his greatest adversary. No other prospect in life outside of the Death Note had ever offered Raito the steady alleviation from his boredom more than keeping the detective hostage to his whims.
The only thing Raito must anticipate is when L would decide to try to escape from him. The spry grin he had barely caught a glimpse of had betrayed the fact that the detective was considering some form of action, but he had spent a few weeks deliberating on what to do. He had known that eventually, L would take action against him, and that the process of drugging his food and water would placate him for only so long.
Outside of college classes and the tedium of Misa's insistence, Raito considers it ironic that Aizawa had asked him to assist the new Task Force. While no one had ever found L's body, it had been assumed that the new Kira had dictated the events of his death to a location possibly outside of Japan. A cryptic message left on a computer hinted at being unable to stop the mass murderer once again plaguing the world, and a suicidal notion to end his case file, something no one who had ever met the detective in real life could ever fathom him stating in a voluntary state of mind. Raito had insisted upon completing his college career, and had expressed grief and determination at carrying on in the foot steps of his father, and the concern and pity he had received further cemented his innocence. It is more than enough to remove any doubt as to his guilt in the eyes of the surviving officer and his comrades, and Raito is given as much time as he needs in between classes and meeting occasionally with the Task Force to keep Misa from controlling all of his time. With access to the new case files and the motions of the new relegation set on finding Kira , Raito has gained control once again as both the innocent teenager, and as the new L, keeping the facts around the case undisclosed to the public and Kira's true identity succinctly out of reach. Higuchi's death had convinced many that the powers of the Death Note chose a new Kira upon the death of the last one, making the apprehension of the current perpetrator a sketchy proposition.
It had been a two days since he had seen to the needs of the dark haired man, and Raito wastes no time in stopping by his apartment long enough to get something to eat and to prepare sustenance for his prisoner. He goes out of his way to make it as bland as possible and not at all to L's liking, although not lacking in nutrients, an additional insult to the thin man's particular tastes. He goes over his plans to avert any actions his captive might take against him, meticulously rehearsing the individual scenarios over and over in his mind. It had been this skill that had enabled him to get the best of L, to put him right back at the crouching man's side when the Death Note had landed back into his hands.
L had never stood a chance against such criminal ingenuity.
After awakening once again to the wretched ticking, L groans in a maddened frustration. He is developing a deeper hatred of the unseen timepiece, almost matching his anger towards Raito in his unspoken grievance. Hours tick by until finally, he hears something outside of the door and he grinds his teeth at how badly he wishes to see the object of his enmity. The captive man did not spend his last couple of days of captivity in vain, instead making labored attempts to practice movements that would give him the upper hand. L analyzes the one opening he can find in Raito's routine, and it comes in the usual motions the teenager makes in securing his feet before taking him to the bathroom. It was the one moment when the distance between his feet and Raito's lovely head were in the closest proximity.
The brunet breezes in casually, as if the entire situation they are in is the most congenial of circumstances. He sets a container of food on the floor and scoots it a short way across the floor, an unexpected change in the habitual procedure the detective has come to know. He then walks over to his chair, and drags it noisily across the room, flopping down with a sigh of discontent. L watches with an air of somber premonition Kira displays, but it instantly turns to one of goading as Raito reaches into his coat pocket, and withdraws a lollipop. There is much presentation of the beloved candy as the teen makes an elaborate show of sensually unwrapping it, before lustily gliding his tongue across it's surface in a lewd display, all the while staring his prisoner down.
L breaks eye contact and huffs in aversion,
"I can't even begin to go into detail of all the things that are wrong with you."
Raito pulls the candy slowly from his mouth and raises a curious eyebrow, and states in a mockingly calm tone,
"Oh? That's too bad, I was hoping to gain the insight of the World's Greatest Detective in regard to serial killers. It would prove highly useful for a class project I'm doing on the motivations of Kira."
L glares at the auburn haired youth with rebellious mutiny, but returns the agreeable lilt, and it's obvious and uncharacteristic of his familiar monotone,
"I'm sorry, Kira-kun is going to have study all on his own. However, I admire that he has the ability to read anything, in light of the fact that he must do so with his head shoved so very far up his own ass. I also doubt he would willingly credit me properly as the valuable resource in such an endeavor, therefore I'm unwilling to offer him any assistance at this time. He also has a terrible memory if he can't recall my insistence at not giving him anything he wants, unless it's imprisonment and death. I would be willing to make an exception for that request. "
This elicits a genuine laugh from the teenager, who hums and twirls the candy in his mouth, and his mood turns jovial as he speaks with his mouth occupied in sucking on the confection,
"That sounds terribly ungrateful of you, after everything I've done to make your accommodations more comfortable. Do you not like your bed at all? I can remove it immediately, if it displeases you."
L sullenly keeps his silence, shifting his body back and resting his hands on the floor, biding his time and Raito can see his jaw muscles flex in irritation. He lets out a sigh and rises to his feet and walks slowly towards his prisoner, removing the candy and tossing it down to the ground, grinning when he sees L's gaze follow it as he removes a set of shackles from his other pocket and taunts,
"Really, I have no idea how you could ever stand to eat so much sugar, it gives me a headache to..."
L instantly pivots on his knee and brings his other leg up in a dazzling maneuver which catches the boy right under the chin just as he bends down. Raito loses his bearing and crashes down, much to L's sudden delight. The detective quickly pulls the boy closer by his leg, and scoffs,
"No Raito-kun, that was my foot that did that, not the sugar. You'll never be any good as a detective unless you learn how to properly deduct the painstakingly obvious."
Raito feels the blow to the side of his head, and it dazes him long enough to not realize another blow is coming. L is slightly off balance, but he's proving how dangerous those feet can be. Raito keeps his eyes closed and doesn't move immediately, allowing L to inspect him closer with cautious, trembling hands. There is a moment of excited zeal when the teenager feels hands wrap around his throat, but only light pressure is exerted for a brief second as the dark haired man shudders and retracts away in disgust. In the next instant, pockets are being searched and L lets out an animated gasp as the keys nervously jingle in his fingertips, and it's obvious to Raito that his captive is unlocking the cuff that has held him prisoner. The younger man must fight against all effort to keep from smiling and betraying the fact that he is completely conscious as he feels the cuff being fastened about his own wrist, lying completely limp during the entire process while thinking about the spare key hidden in his shoe.
The once captive man's hands grow less timid as he searches through Raito's clothes, even feeling along the inside of the seams. He's looking for a piece of the Death Note, the bemused Kira thinks to himself as once again, his watch is completely disregarded to dangle nonchalantly on his wrist. L stands over him, suddenly much braver and steadier now that he is free.
He kicks the prone Kira swiftly in the head once more, sending a harsh ringing through the teenager's ears and bloodying his lower lip. Raito doesn't move an inch, even as he hears the door to his left creak open and L's frantic cough at his exertions outside of it. In spite of what the older man might believe, both his food and water have held traces of sedative, but not enough to render him unconscious. It's all the time the angry youth requires to surge to his feet, the unfettered chain falling to the floor.
L hears the noise from inside that accursed room, but the ring of metal in his grasp gives him a somewhat false sense of security. He realizes that he only holds a moment in which to gain his bearings, looking about him to take in that he is in some sort of a darkened basement. There are shelves filled with miscellaneous items, dusty jars and boxes bleached from age. Bare light streaming in through a small dirty window illuminates a worn, broken stairway leading up to a steel door.
He begins to scramble up the steps, keys held in a shaking hand as he reaches the halfway point just as he hears a sound behind him. The detective wastes no time as he hastens his step, his foot barely slipping on a creaking board beneath. He knows that Raito is free, and only a moment behind him, but he has the advantage of a full range of motion and he is more than willing to defend his life with deadly force, if he needs to. He starts to spin around to confront the teen, but is cut off by a blaze of brilliant light burning through his sight.
A sudden searing pain hits him in the side with blinding force, and it's when he tries to stop a stilted tailspin that causes his muscles to clench that he can see Raito right below him, taser in hand. L fumbles ineffectively at the wires in an attempt to dislodge them, but by then it is too late. He is no longer in control, as cool metal keys start to slip from his fingertips. He's falling backwards, his body unable to react, his senses tumbling with unspoken dread. Raito fluidly sidesteps his descending form, and L comes down hard, twisting his right foot as it's caught underneath the wooden step he had ascended mere seconds before . A yelp rips from his throat, as he crashes unceremoniously to the concrete landing, a crumpled, bruised mess. Raito is immediately upon him, looming overhead as L moans and tries to regain his stance. An overwhelming pain usurps his efforts as his fingers scratch along the filthy floor and he struggles to push himself upright. For some awful reason, he can't even think within the agony shooting down his leg and L knows, he simply knows that all is lost.
Raito bends down, and there is a darkly triumphant smile that crosses that lovely, malevolent face as he watches the injured man writhe in his predicament. The struggling detective feels the taser press against his back and he jolts suddenly and screams out as prolonged contact with the prongs blur his mind. He feels confused and lacks the ability to crawl away from the source of his pain, breathing heavily, his heart pounding loudly in his chest against the hard concrete floor. L tries to regain control of his muscles as he follows Kira's gaze towards his right ankle, twisted and swollen. With instant terror L watches his captor walks across the room, and time seems to stop as Raito pulls a sheath hidden along the shelves, withdrawing a flash of silver from it, right before he is impotently pinned down with no sense of gentility. L fights to move but realizes that the voltage has disabled him and lurid amounts of nausea burn within his churning insides. An intense pain shoots through him and he contorts reflexively, flailing against the floor and crying out from the effort. Within a few moments it's over, and L realizes that his body reacts merely from pain, he still holds no control over his limbs and lacks any strength to fight back.
Raito instantly stands back, and there are tiny flecks of crimson spotting the lower hem of his shirt. An exultant sneer and razor sharp eyes assess his victim a few moments before a dark, wicked laugh erupts from him, sounding triumphant and hysterical at once. The knife is thrown to the floor some distance from being of any use to the detective, and he can see the trail of blood it scatters in it's skittered wake. It's his blood, and while he knows this, it takes more than a few moments in the shock of his mind to clarify it as fact.
The dark haired man is utterly terrified in that moment, and he's not sure if it's from the perspective of his immobility or the seemingly psychotic behavior of his soon to be murderer. He begins to feel warmth pooling near his foot, and he finally gains the ability to shift his head enough to gaze down towards his feet. It's apparent that his ankle is bleeding, but the telltale inability to move his foot speaks the horrific evidence of a severed Achilles tendon. There is barely a moment to process what happens next as his attacker sets upon him, twisting his arms behind his back and forcing him down, flat on his stomach against the cold, bare floor. The wild haired detective struggles and spits curses in a multitude of languages, suddenly finding the ability to sluggishly struggle, but his efforts are more a show of defiance than aptitude. L twists weakly, kicking frantically to dislodge Kira from his back, but Raito simply sits on him until he at last settles back down, gasping harshly, his exertions exhausting him into compliance. The subdued man feels the unspeakable pain of the taser against the back of his neck, cringing and protesting the excessive use of force before he cries out, whimpering as the disorientation of his nerves relents to immobility once more.
His gaze meets forlornly with the door at the top of the steps, the great mystery on which his life would end. It is the one thing L wishes to know, more than anything else he has ever wanted in life, to simply know what lies on the other side of it.
He is completely in Kira's control now. Even if he could get from underneath Raito, he can't walk or balance long enough to get off an attempt at meia-lua de compasso, as knocking the brunet unconscious and killing him is the only guarantee to his survival.
Vicious fingers grip his hair, almost as if the teenager can read his mind, and yanks his head back, The detective lets out a sharp yelp, breaking his saddened reverie and Kira lets out cold laughter, before a flippant voice practically coos in his ear,
"Oh L, trying to leave me so soon? Don't you enjoy my company? Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to kick your host in the head?"
Raito sharply hits the dark haired man, tit for tat, earning him a displeased growl from his captive. He shakes L's head violently for a moment, stunning the injured man into abrupt silence when he softly reprimands,
"I believe it's time you had a lesson in manners. I'm going to make sure you never act against me, or anyone else, ever again."
L looks back with questioning eyes to see the murderous amber gaze dissecting him wholly, and a sudden chill goes through him from head to toe. That strong hand in his hair doesn't let go as he is forced to his feet, the other keeping a tight grip upon his captive wrist. He can't hold his weight for long and lets out fitful cries as Raito pushes him despairingly back into that hated room. However, Raito steers him away from his bed and continues to propel him forward towards the bathroom.
L is helpless to stop his crippled trek, agony rippling through every step as Raito stops in front of the pipes that broodingly reminds him of something traumatic, his mind mercifully whitewashing most of the events to prevent him from directly recalling what had exactly happened, but the unsettled wave of sickness that grips him alerts him to the fact that something awful had occurred there Raito drops him face first to the floor, and L waivers unsteadily to get to his knees, his muscles floundering to maintain equilibrium, but he fails in his attempts to recover. The raven haired man does his best to land on his side, but the shock and pain are enough to stun him momentarily into stillness. His heart beats erratically in his chest, like a wild bird caged for the first time, beating itself bloody against the bars of it's elegant prison. L is scared, but does his best to clear his head and analyze what Raito's motives might be in this situation. All deductive evidence points to the fact that he stands very little chance of escaping alive, but his knowledge of behavioral profiling offers him a slim chance to defuse Kira's rage.
Raito watches him struggle with slight amusement before he unfastens one of L's cuffs and pulls him forward by his wrist, once again securing him to the wall. There is a swift kick to the helpless man's side, and L recoils instinctively, trying to protect himself from what may come next. He is surprised when he glances up to see the other boy storm out of the room and emits a labored exhalation. There is a concise moment of confusion before dread alights his senses in a flurry of panic and a sudden realization as Kira effortlessly breezes back into view, a rattan cane in one hand, and a knife in the other
He tries to reconcile that gleaming stainless steel as it's set on the floor, only to feel a strike from the rattan come down harshly against the back of his legs. L twists violently from the intensity of the blow, and a few more fall across his back as he wrenches his arms in an attempt to lessen the attack. Just as he feels he can stand no more, the cane rattles to the floor, and Raito's seething form crosses his vision as L pulls himself up on his knees, watching Kira move towards him, bending down with a homicidal gleam in his eye as his hand finds the knife and holds it up to glint in the bare light. The pain burns through his senses and bare tears flood his eyes as he pants in ragged, shortened breaths. The arrogant smirk on the face of his tormentor indicates that Raito enjoys his suffering, and L already knows that he is dealing with a sociopath whose Machiavellian views justify his methods. It doesn't matter if an innocent person had to die in order for Kira's madness to rule the world. In Raito's mind, the ends justified the means, and the detective understands that there is nothing he can do to encourage the other man to show him mercy. He begins to shake uncontrollably.
He can't breathe, he can't even scream in horror as his voice fails him, Raito grabbing the front of his shirt and holding the blade in the air. When L finds he can hysterically gasp, only incoherent muttering escapes his trembling lips. Raito grins down at the sight before him, the detective is terrified and visibly shaking, soft indistinct mewls of fear tumbling from his tremulous lips. There is a strong want to drive that knife in deep, to hold the other man's terrorized and dying form in it's final moments, but Raito's eyes travel down L's body and he evinces a deceptive expression of deviance and sadistic glee. The cold steel presses to the frightened man's neck and forces him to straighten his back against the rough concrete of the wall. L's watering eyes lock pleadingly with his, as the gentle, quavering tone that greets the younger man's ears delight him to no reasonable end,
"Raito-kun...you don't have to go through with this. Not like this... "
It's an unquestionable nod to end things without bloodshed, with paper and pen. The detective realizes the lateness in his request, but he knows that he does not want to die in such a gruesome manner. His softly spoken petition is a gentle, nonthreatening plea for mercy, but L shakes like a leaf in a strong wind, and Raito can't help but to drink in the power he holds over that lithe form. He could easily kill L anytime he wanted, but why not play with the wounded man already compromised psyche? Certainly, L would have to die eventually, but it wasn't necessary to kill him yet. L is mortified by the knife, so scared that he is asking for the cleaner death, without the violent posturing of an angered psychopath.
This would definitely work to Raito's already staggering advantage.
The blade exerts more pressure to L's jugular and interrupts his thoughts with an immediate wince, and Raito chuckles darkly and snaps,
"You are correct as always, my dear detective. I don't have to do this, but maybe I want to. You've been nothing but an inconvenience to me from the start. Maybe it's time I put an end to this little charade of camaraderie between us. Killing you like this would be highly personal and altogether satisfying. I think it's high time you learn the price one must pay when they oppose Kira."
L clenches his eyes shut and as he lets out a yell when he feels the knife press hard against his throat and draw across it. He feels himself fall from Raito's hold to the concrete and he sputters in a forlorn cry, certain that he is dying and bleeding out. A few seconds pass, and L dares to crack open his eyes to see Raito standing above him, roaring in sadistic laughter. His eyes dart about in a state of mental numbness, when he realizes that there is no blood and no gushing injury one might expect from a ripped throat. Raito continues to chuckle in apparent amusement, holding up the knife to point out to L the dull side that had been pressed to his neck.
It's a cruel joke played at the expense of his pride.
L glares at him with contemptuous zeal and responds by kicking Kira's feet from beneath him with his one good remaining, free limb. Raito stumbles back, dropping the knife with a distinct clatter to the ground, and L smirks, enjoying whatever small triumph he can get. The younger man's impromptu lack of grace at falling down to eye level with his enemy is a small compensation for the injuries he has suffered. It fills him with the tiniest bit of happiness to see Raito slip in his blood the moment he tries to regain his composure, a short act of morbid black comedy to see the usually charming youth curse in his lack of poise.
Such a victory is short lived, once Raito catches the bared teeth of the condescending smile the moment it manifests upon his captive's face, and he is immediately enraged at being humiliated. He carefully gathers up the knife and slowly stalks towards the wounded man. The look on L's face immediately turns to one of intimidated concern, and his aggressor regains the psychological upper hand, making his approach slow and intrepid. L cringes back against the wall and Raito grabs him by the hair in an attempt to hold him still.
The floor is slippery with blood beneath his feet, and the detective knows that there will be no escape from his fate. Kira pounces him with a maddened snarl, and the thin man can only attempt to curl away from that blade as it comes down, a hand his shirt shredding the material as if it were rice paper. Within the disorderly scrambling, L is certain that he is living his last moments. Yet it becomes apparent within his floundering that Raito is not attempting to stab him, and the wounds from the helpless writhing are all superficially inflicted, defensive wounds. He stops twisting long enough for Raito to pull the remains of his bloodied, torn short from his body, and Raito doesn't stop there. Hands begin to pull on his jeans, and suddenly L doesn't care if he's being killed or not, he doesn't want to be naked and vulnerable in front of this sadistic maniac. It causes him spectacular amounts of pain to kick out and to yank his liberally bleeding wrist against the metal handcuff, but it's a fight L knows he's already going to lose. He determines to not die without a fight.
The auburn haired boy retaliates by pinning his legs, and punching him in the head a few times before L settles down, with a look that is both dazed and bereft. Raito pulls the remaining clothes from the thin man's body, and takes stock of the darkened, bruised spots that adorn the pale flesh. He smiles and softly strokes along the fading edges of a larger mark and L spits at him, wriggling to break from the direct contact and hisses,
"Stop touching me, you sick bastard! You won't evade capture forever, even once I'm dead. You're doomed to die for your crimes, no matter what you do to me! I'll never bow to your will!"
Raito takes pause long enough to wipe the spittle from his face, when he remembers the rattan stick on the ground. He smiles, offering no words in return as bends down to retrieve it. L backs up against the wall before his captor raises and brings the switch down with fury and intent against the menacing eyes staring back at him in defiant insubordination.
It's clear that Raito is determined to teach him a lesson, and the dark haired man curses and does his best to fight back to no avail.
The blows continue to fall, even after L begins to scream, his shrieks rebounding off the concrete walls in a lone symphony of distress and agony. Even when the blood begins to fly back from the cane against Kira's own body from the force of his strikes, the attack against his captive is unrelenting. L finally loses his footing completely, huddling away in every direction although none of them offer him relief from the onslaught. His voice grows steadily hoarse and becomes punctuated with tear filled sobs for mercy.
At last, the naked man loses consciousness and only then does Raito cease the vicious beating, taking in a brief confirmation that L is still alive before gathering his weapons and immersing the room in darkness, locking the door behind him. He would give L a few days without food and water to see how determined L's resolve would remain, and remind him of who was truly in charge.
This chapter, unlike the others, is dedicated to someone with whom I no longer speak to. They had written another story here, and inspired me to once again start to write and tap into my wellspring of creativity. No matter the circumstances, a promise is a promise after all. I'm obligated to keep my word, and thus my honor, in spite of all that cares to happen in this uncertain world. There was never a moment to fret, because once I realized that I had prepared for the events as they began to unfold, I saw there was no need to suffer at the decay and downfall of someone who never had my best interests at heart. What I had seen in them, was merely the mask they adorned for the grand ballroom, not unlike the disguises the wicked politicians who once graced the Piazza San Marco had worn. In the safety of misguided trust I had been temporarily fooled, and I let them in. However, such deceptions can only be carried out as long as the darkness prevailed, and the moment I had found fire, I had discovered what really mattered to me. I thank this person, for what they reminded me of, that little bit of spark deep within that understood the greatest victories are the ones where you stand up and fight back for all that you're worth. I found the greatest happiness in letting go of what held me back, and the negativity of their presence could no longer poison me. I never had to fall to their level of cruel words and abuse, every action they took against me simply strengthened my resolve that I was doing the right thing.
After everything that happened, I could never feel sorrow for opening my heart to someone, no matter how broken or how tragic they insisted things to be. Sometimes when I look back at the time we shared I understand that I feel no regret in losing contact, because they had had never been a real friend of mine. Although drawn by the false light I had mistaken within them, I knew that allowing them to steal my fire would have been a greater tragedy. In the end, I could never grieve losing something of so little value, because there was never gold at the end of that rainbow, only their brilliance tarnished...