Ficlet #10: Game Master
We had ropes about our necks, and on our heads prices
which showed that the enemy intended
hideous tortures for us if we were caught.
Each day some of us passed,
and the living knew themselves
just sentient puppets on God's stage.
(T. E. Lawrence)
L forced his agnostic, empirically-controlled mind to process the vision of this monster standing before him. Wait. Not a monster, but a Shinigami. God of Death. He thought he might retch from the disgust he felt. Kira had not played fairly or even on this world's dimension. He had been blessed. Again, wait. No. He had been cursed, possessed by an unseen force that feared neither death nor humanity.
Light Yagami had toyed with him. He had strung L along, leading him into this death trap manipulated by his own intellect, fueled by a supernatural force, and motivated by a naïve, but warped sense of justice. And boredom! God, he couldn't forget the boredom.
When had his mind last been so lively engaged? When had he ever had the opportunity or desire to interact with his suspect? Even now, knowing his heart, mind, and soul actively fought a battle beyond his limited, entirely humanly however genius it was comprehension, he couldn't regret having played this game.
Even as his every move was counter-attacked and avoided, he continued to strategize. He might not be able to follow Light to the finish. In fact, the percentages crept upwards every day when he took the time to think about it. But more often than not, his mind was more occupied with losing. Never had he had the chance to play a game more intense, more enthralling. He refused to be denied access or made inactive. Even in death, he would make certain that it was his machinations that brought this game to the end. Nothing short of miraculous would do. He was playing against God, was he not?