L
Pride
What is it that makes us human? Is it our intelligence? Our ingenuity?
Perhaps in our primal conception; that is what had us as a whole separated from the beasts of nightmare. We took comfort in our own creations. In the glow of a fire; in the strength of our spears.
Now there is no need for this distinction; not with the creatures of this Earth however. We have exerted our mastery over them. We have hunted and drove them to near extinction. And if by some chance they wander into our world, they are captured and taken into captivity.
No, the distinction is not needed between humanoids and the animal kingdom. Not when we have so neatly merged with another of our creations. Technology.
That is what my self-disgust has driven me to. The disgust with both myself and the plague we have unleashed upon this Earth.
I am no longer human; but machine.
I do not hear, smell or touch.
I am blind.
As justice should be.
I am L and I wear the mask of pride.
Where did this distancing begin?
Perhaps childhood, where I was abandoned and mocked. Stared at and whispered about. Rumors passed from child to child, eventually to the caretakers who in time also began to think something was not right about me.
Freak.
Unwanted.
Monster.
These were these were the words my so called peers hissed at me when I passed. To them, I was an untouchable.
I found solace in books. Equations. Formulas. Theories. Words from philosophers.
The whispers continued; increasing. I began to dread sleep where their words haunted me and even worse when I lay awake only to hear the insults continued and rumors passing from bed to bed. I slept in the library if I slept at all.
The murmured insults in passing turned to open taunts. They began to steal my food. My clothes. My favorite books went missing. I lost weight. My shoulders started to hunch permanently. The result of blows falling on my body.
But then a man began to come. He visited me once a week. He did not sneer or look down upon me. He smiled at me. We talked about things that interested me. The changes within me did not go unnoticed.
His smile became tinged with worry when I picked things up with only the tips of fingers after I had been burned by one of their more malicious pranks. It became forced when the bags under my eyes made their home on my face permanently. The smile stopped altogether when I began sitting with my knees drawn up to my chest; the ultimate position of vulnerability.
It was not until the accident that he acted.
It was rare that I was tormented so publicly. The other children specialized in subtly, but for whatever reason there was an exception made that day. It does not matter. What matters was that when I refused to answer to their venomous words, I was shoved. From the top of the stairwell. And that the injury forever curved my spine.
What once was a method of comforting myself became a reminder of the abuse I had suffered daily.
The man removed me from the institution.
His name was Quillish Wammy.
He took me to a large manor house.
He gave me whatever I asked for. He encouraged my interests; letting me pursue whatever had me captivated at the time. He did not scold me when I began to refuse normal food and eat only sweets. Not even when I was at first made sick. I still felt the need to explain myself to him. I said they were critical to my thinking process. He only smiled indulgently. We both knew they were to cause my inability to sleep.
Eventually my interest drifted towards the justice system. I requested a computer; an outlandish thing for anyone to own at the time.
I began solving cases.
It was much different than my previous pursuits. It was not predictable like mathematics; nor was it abstract like literature and philosophy. It was a combination of logic and variation that had me thoroughly intrigued.
I excelled at it.
Within a few years I was recognized as the Detective L; though it was still years before I was acclaimed worldwide. Wammy was thrilled at my success and began making arrangements for the future. He spoke of plans of capturing mass murderers and placing behind bars. These were idealistic dreams; a result of the time he had served in the military. I kept silent. I could not tell him that this was a mere hobby; a way of relieving boredom.
He eventually spoke of successors. Ones to take over when I was gone. It made me uneasy to think of someone taking my place so easily. But I agreed.
I was left on my own for long periods while Wammy began searching. He made arrangements. Interviewing teachers, renovating the house, thinking of curriculum. I was a ghost hiding in the shadows as people came in and invaded my home. I pushed down my feelings of discontentment. Wammy had the idea of creating a whole school around the mission of succeeding me. I nodded numbly and continued on with my cases.
One day he brought two boys. A and B. They were to succeed me and be the first in line. He introduced us. I walked away in disgust. I ignored the apologies Wammy made to them. Both boys ran after me and tugged on my shirt. I turned and shot them a look of loathing.
The smaller and fairer one blanched, hastily backing away. The other met my stare defiantly, his chin lifted moving his long unkempt dark hair out of his equally dark eyes. There was something unnatural in those eyes. I suppressed a shiver and stared back until he looked away.
Just as I had thought.
They were unworthy. They had not suffered like I had. I was above them; somewhere they could never hope to reach. Why shouldn't they know their place?
It is only now I recognize the first stirring of what had been pride. It is only now I realized I was taking revenge upon young children who had suffered just as much as I had. It is only now I realized I shattered them and they could not be fixed as I had been.
I continued to belittle their achievements. I was cold and I tore them down.
Then they shattered.
A committed suicide.
B descended into madness.
Wammy blamed himself.
I felt shame for the first time.
My pedestal became unbalanced. I began to doubt myself. I questioned my own though process. I had allowed my emotions to rule me. I eliminated them. Wammy watched on in worry.
I began to pursue justice for the sake of justice, not my own cruel amusement.
I captured B after he committed three murders and attempted suicide. It was not pain I felt when I saw his face disfigured with burns. No, you must recall I was impartial. Blind.
My life continued in this way. I retreated farther into dark room lit only by glowing monitors. Birthdays passed but I did not grow older. I ate and drank but did not hunger or thirst. It was only out of habit that I continued to devour sweets. I did not sleep, only working until my body shut down; and only then for the briefest times. I was a machine.
I was justice.
Until a boy who called himself God challenged me.
This boy did not flinch or look away when I met his eyes. For the first time, I was met with equality.
Justice was blurred. Petty revenge began to plague me. Emotion creeped back in.
He wished me dead. That was obvious enough from his smiles and eyes. They reflected wickedly back at me.
It did not stop me from craving his companionship. Or his friendship. Or his poison.
When the arrogance in his eyes began to fade and he began to smile honestly, I lowered my guard. I truly became his friend.
Which is why I did not look away when he killed me.
I was dead the moment he screamed in what should have been our moment of triumph. And when he looked at me, with murder in his eyes once more, I fell.
I fell from my pedestal. I was taught humility by the cruelest teacher. I felt human.
Was it strange that I felt happy? Kneeling at his feet as a servant?
Perhaps it was his own look of tenderness in his eyes. Or was that my pride again? Deluding myself into believing he cared.
Pride or not, I was honest when I told him it would be sad when we would part ways. I ignored the rage that returned to his eyes.
And when he was staring down at me, murderous glee in his eyes, I wanted to smile.
I had been made equal.
I was human.
"Pride makes us artificial, humility makes us real."
~Author's Note~
This took serious thought. I left how L became an orphan to your own interpretation. I tried to add canon elements from a short I read by the authors about L. One was how he had a computer when it was extremely rare. I also gave Watari a military background to explain his sniper skills. I added an accident because even I don't believe L is completely hunched over by choice.
I hope I've done L, forgive the pun, justice. Next up is Light with Greed and Ryuk finishing it off with Gluttony.