The werewolf roamed about in the wreckage of the workroom, wandering aimlessly in the painfully bright space.
The werewolf had investigated everything within it, consumed the stash of food it'd found and chewed on most of the furniture. Now it prowled, agitated, growling at every shadow that lurks in hidden corners, snapping at the hunger gnawing at its stomach.
The scent of food still lingers within this room even when they were all gone. It was horribly sweet and didn't quite fill its stomach. What was worse than that was that there was no water to be found.
Rage pounded in its head and it snapped at the wheels on an overturn chair. Seconds later, it stumbled as if coming off of a high and fell to the ground in a heap, growling at its own weakness.
The scent of that man lingers.
The werewolf whined softly as the smell unexpectedly reminded it of something else other than food or hostility. It can't remember what it was called but the feeling brought a fleeting comfort within the confined space, trapped with nowhere else to go.
The flash of rage returned and everything else fled its mind.
The werewolf struggled to its feet, snarling at nothing in particular, sides heaving as it stared at the air. It was gone as suddenly as it came. The werewolf whined in confusion and trotted over to the closed door, where another man had shut it before. The taste of blood had already disappeared and it felt a pang of hunger at that thought.
It sniffed at the door for the hundredth time, trying to figure a way out.
That was forgotten as rage pulsed again and it snarled, lips curling back as it bared its fangs.
The werewolf slammed into the door with unbridled fury, feeling the metal budge under its weight. It kept rushing at it, again and again, until the rage dwindled and exhaustion took its place.
It stumbled and fell, glaring at the obstacle in its way.
A growl rumbled in its throat, as it dragged itself back to its feet and staggered back into the room in search of sustenance.
If it can't, there a good chance that it will die right in this room.
The werewolf wanted to simply curl up and sleep right in the middle of the floor. But no, it can't, it won't die from the lack of food just like that, caged in a room like a lowly creature.
Somehow, it remembers that there's someone watching this room all the time.
It paused, beginning to figure something out.
"Where were you on the night of the blackout?"
The raven-haired detective was once again questioning Mikhailov's, following Kaufer's interrogation from earlier. He stared the researcher down, munching calmly on chocolate-laden éclairs and sipping his sugary tea.
Mikhailov looked back at him calmly, just slightly more haggard than usual from the prolonged confinement. He shrugged and said, "Haven't I told you, detective? I was trapped in the elevator on that night while I was returning from a bathroom break."
L studied him for a long moment, noting the posture and actions Mikhailov had while he answered the question.
He got nothing.
The scientist was impossibly calm, his posture remained open and relaxed, his eyes did not stray from the detective's face, there was an absence of fidgeting that bordered on being unnatural. His pale eyes stared at L, gaze steely like stone, unmovable and unshakable.
The detective was immediately reminded of Light, the way the teen was as unflinching even under the surveillance of L's cameras.
A flash of memory came to him, where to most people, Light had seemed like normal teenager, dutifully studying his materials a few days before a test.
L knew better.
Light had been too normal that time, not once did his attention stray away from his studies, his action of eating potato chips too methodical and strangely focused. It was a dead giveaway.
'Light is Kira.'
L's stare faltered and Mikhailov's lips curled into a smile.
"Why keep asking that question, detective?" The scientist mentioned, "Did someone tell on me?"
The detective tilted his head, "It's peculiar that you pointed this out when I've asked you all the questions multiple times."
Mikhailov chuckled, sat forward and leaned his head on his hand, "That is perhaps something you call, ah, gut feeling."
L looked at him skeptically, his gaze blank to the unobservant.
"I suppose you don't really rely on that, huh," Mikhailov kept smiling, "Deductive reasoning can be quite frustrating to work with sometimes, when you don't have solid prove."
"What is your point?"
"Simple," Mikhailov chucked, leaning back to his original position, "I didn't do it. Maybe you should look closer and perhaps you will find that things are not what they seem."
It sounded more and more like Mikhailov is trying to manipulate him but he can't be sure, not at all. L kept his guard up.
"What do you suggest?"
The researcher adjusted his position on the chair, whether the posture change meant something, he can't pinpoint it just yet.
"Profiles," he said, the vaguely sincere look had never once left his face, "Not everything is listed under our profiles. You're missing the pieces."
"How would you know that, specifically?"
Mikhailov's hesitated, as if reluctant to disclose the information. His eyes took on a form of guilt, before he answered, "Because I know my team members, Mr. Ryuuzaki. Kaufer had always been secretive and jumpy, and Krupin had not always been Krupin."
L processed the information and asked, "What do you mean?"
"I… heard things, while they thought they were both alone," he pressed his lips into a straight line, it was brief and almost entirely undetectable.
The first nervous gesture, L noted but he couldn't tell whether it's done subconsciously or on purpose.
Mikhailov looked like he was about to tell more, when he retreated and muttered, "I can't say anymore."
L felt like strangling the man but he kept still, his face showing nothing as he pressed, "Tell me more about it."
Mikhailov glanced at him, a quick flicker of his eyes, the light in them clear and sharp.
He wringed his hands, hesitated and uttered, "They had been in my team for a while, Krupin joined earlier than Kaufer, she came in a year ago and Kaufer arrived five months later. Both had proved to be valuable assets to my research." Mikhailov looked troubled, "Krupin had always been distant and cold, and she hardly mingled with the rest of the team, including myself. However, with Kaufer, she'd warmed up to him almost immediately. It was really surprising to us and we were glad because she finally made an acquaintance on the team."
He paused and L prompted, "What changed?"
Mikhailov glanced at him, took a breath and said, "I caught them in a conversation. Krupin had wanted his help with something."
L waited, taking a sip of his tea while Mikhailov appear to collect himself.
"She said she hates werewolves."
The detective was intrigued.
"From their conversation, I gathered that she knew Kaufer from somewhere before," he said, "She mentioned that someone she loved had been killed by one of them, she'd joined the team merely to take revenge. She persuaded Kaufer to join her in her revenge."
L nibbled on his thumb, staring at the other who stared back at him.
"There's one thing that I don't get," L mentioned, "You knew she held vengeance for werewolves, yet you allow her to continue working under you."
Mikhailov shuddered visibly.
He wrung his hands and looked straight at L, his green eyes bright and filled with an unnamed emotion as he responded, "Power belongs to the rich and the influential, Mr. Ryuuzaki, and Krupin is both."
"You have been under her thumb all this time?"
Mikhailov looked like he was having second thoughts, eyes flickering over to the camera warily, before he slowly nodded.
L was about to ask more but the other man uttered, "I can't speak anymore. It's risky enough for me as it is."
The detective assessed him, the image of defeat and reluctantly pulled away,
"We will speak more another time," he promised and promptly left the room.
L made his way back to his office, questions milling in his head about the new information he had gathered.
Krupin had initially implied that Mikhailov had been the one behind Light's turning, while Kaufer said that he saw Mikhailov in a place that was not where the latter claimed he was. Now Mikhailov mentioned a collaboration between the other two, with Krupin as the mastermind who controlled everything else including himself.
Of course, the most suspicious out of them all seemed to be Mikhailov. However, there wasn't anything that he could catch and clearly state it as evidence of his guilt.
L sighed as he entered the room, where Watari sat typing into his computer surrounded by footage from cameras all over the building, still trying to recover the lost files.
"You got all that?"
"Yes."
L nodded, "How's the progress?"
Watari frowned, "It is proving to be difficult for me, whoever did this is at a level that surpassed me and perhaps, you as well."
L glanced at the screen from a camera in the workroom, it showed Light curled up by the door, dozing.
"I have detected no movement from the werewolf over the last two hours," Watari informed.
"I'll watch him," the detective said, "And perhaps, no, we should get Matt to take a look at this."
"That is a prudent approach, for now."
"I am aware of the risks, Watari," L said, "There are lives and careers that are at stake here. I need the issue of the lost files to be resolved fast for a conclusion. I would advise him against being careless."
"Understood. I will contact him immediately."
"Thank you, Watari."
While Watari set out in his task, L started his own, as he pulled out the profiles of the three researchers and as Mikhailov had stated and directed him, L discovered that he'd spoke the truth.
If one had known where to look, they would find that Krupin's information was false.