Chapter 12

Matsuda

I drove straight into the bad part of town. I needed to find some random motel to stay in, somewhere where no one could find me. I just needed to get a room and hide out there until the meeting. Well, actually, I may need to make a quick stop at home. I had been in such a rush and was so upset, that I had forgotten to get a bag with some clothes for the next few days. Great, Matsuda… Good job. At least I had my wallet.

But wait. I had thought of something. If I don't want anyone to find me, I'll have to ditch my phone so they can't track me, and I need to get rid of my car so they don't happen to see it and know where I'm at. I can only use cash too. I had to practically drop off the face of the planet. I wish I could… It would make things so much simpler. I quickly turned off my phone. First things first; before anything else, I had to find a cheap motel room. Fast.

I strayed deep into that "questionable area of the city for about 20 minutes before finding a suitable place to stay. I parked-and locked- my car, feeling nervous that it might be stolen. Then I decided that I didn't really care all that much and tried to appear inconspicuous as I walked toward the door. Before venturing in I remembered something. I reached into my jacket pocket and took out my phone. I turned it off and threw it on the ground, making sure to stomp it into oblivion on the sidewalk.

I strolled inside but kept my face hidden behind my strands of wet bangs. The man behind the counter didn't seem to think much of me, but a few other tough-biker-looking guys with multiple tattoos and piercings with colored mohawks who passed me looked at me with what seemed to be snarls. I didn't make eye contact. I wanted to flee back home, but I just looked down at my feet as I approached the counter.

"I need a room, please," I said quietly, still not lifting my head.

"Sure thing," the muscular man replied in his deep voice. He put his hand in a drawer and it reappeared a moment later holding a key with a number engraved onto its side. "40 bucks per day," he added as he held out his empty hand expectantly, still withholding the key in the other.

"Uh…. Yeah." I fumbled with my wallet for a moment and handed him the agreed upon sum. He counted and in return tossed me the key. I didn't reply and trudged up the stairs. I turned on the light to my room and scrunched up my nose as I looked around at the shabby quarters. The nightstand and the bed were the only two pieces of furniture that adorned the space. The yellowing wallpaper was peeling, the cheap carpet was dirty and stained with what I really hoped wasn't blood, and I didn't even know when the last time the bed sheets were washed. I flopped down on the squeaky bed, noticing a small puff of dust fly up off of it. I grimaced at how filthy everything here was. I stood up, shook out the blanket and sat down again on the edge.

I rested my forearms on my legs and hung my hands down between them. I was so tired. I was just so god damn tired of everything. I stared down at the floor for a while and tried to take deep breaths. But every breath seemed to become shakier than the last.

I should just die, I suggested to myself. Maybe offing myself would solve everything. Is suicide really an option for me? I had never seriously debated it before, but I had been depressed for a long time and now it all seemed to make sense. I certainly didn't want to give myself up alive. They would torture me to no end. By the time Fear was finished with me my body would no doubt be found in pieces, if it was found at all. But if I died before they got to me or any more of the people I cared about, then it might work. Right? Everything would be okay. They'd have the person that killed their "God" and my friends and family would be safe.

Would anyone care? Probably not. They would be glad they didn't have to take care of me like a kid anymore. I cared about the team, more than I cared about myself. They weren't screw ups like I was. They weren't the reason everyone they love is in danger. They didn't kill a friend. They were good people. And I felt sick to my stomach with self-loathing. I couldn't think of a single reason why anyone would love me, or want me around for long. My stupidity could entertain someone for a little while, but sooner or later everyone gets tired of me. They always have. After I got out of school, none of my childhood friends bothered to call me, not even just to say hi.

But wait. Aizawa said that they cared about me, right? Even if they did feel a bit sad if I died, they'd get over it soon enough, I thought. Anyway, this was for their safety. Their safety was much more important than my death. I sighed. I was slowly drowning in the depths of depression. And depression was like quicksand. The more I struggled against it, the deeper into its dark abyss I sank, into a place in which few get out alive. A sob racked my body and I didn't even try to stop the tears that poured down my face.

I had made my decision. I just hoped it would help everyone.

But still, I don't want to completely disappoint everyone. I don't want to be viewed as a coward who took his life because he couldn't face the consequences of his actions, I thought. Then I had an idea. I know… I'll make it look like I died in a gunfight. Fear will definitely have a bunch of guys with guns at the meeting. If I shoot at them, they'll shoot back. It's human nature to defend yourself. I thought it was a pretty good plan. I recalled movies I'd seen and stories I'd read or heard. No one ever thought the guy who died in a gunfight with the bad guys was ever a coward. They always made him out to be a hero, especially if he was a cop.

I'll go down fighting. That's more ideal than just shooting myself in the head or hanging myself. At least then no one can say I didn't try. Maybe I'll even get some guys before I die. I mean, I don't want to kill any more people, but if it comes down to it, I will. Besides, that would be less the rest of the team would have to worry about anyway… Including me.

I started to feel better. Developing this seemingly fool-proof plan and playing the scene out in my mind was reassuring. I sniffed and dried my tears on my sleeves.

I smiled sadly to myself, knowing that I made the right choice for once in my life.

Mogi

When Aizawa had exited the elevator, he seemed… different. He still had a relatively determined look on his face, and was soaked from head to toe from the rain, but something else was there too, something that normally wasn't. He looked… depressed actually; sad, like he could almost cry. And he looked older. I swallowed hard and my stomach felt sick with worry. What happened that could make him look that way? I wondered. What happened to Matsuda?

When Aizawa left to look for Matsuda, Ide and I had gone downstairs for more coffee, but went right back upstairs to standing in the corridor again, not knowing what else to do. Unfortunately, the director was still there, still trying to dig her nose into our business. I know she's the director; it's her job to know. But I just didn't want anyone else getting too deep in our problems. I wished it was just us. It should've been just Ide, Aizawa, and me searching for Matsuda. It felt too personal for her to be with us right now. That and the fact that we had learned to keep everything and anything having to do with even the word Kira a secret. But it seemed like we needed all the help we could get. And having the director of the NPS's help might come in handy in the future.

Aizawa trudged toward us tiredly, a flimsy sheet of paper in hand. I wondered if that was what he had found at Matsuda's apartment. Is that what's making him look so worried? I saw Aizawa swallow hard too. What could that possibly be? A ransom note or something? A moment later, my questions were answered.

"Here," he said, handing me the piece of paper. "I found this at Matsuda's apartment. You need to take a look at it." I did. As I read, I gasped and my eyes widened.

"What? What is it?" Ide questioned. I finished and passed him the letter. He drew in a sharp breath. No sooner than Ide lifted his head from reading did the director snatch the note out of his hands to have a look for herself. Aizawa stood in silence, while Ide and I were feeling how he felt. I kept my eyes down, locked on the floor. I heard the director breath a short sigh. "Well," she started. "You three know Matsuda better than I do. Any idea where he might have gone or what he's planning to do now?"

"No," Aizawa said. Ide shook his head. I simply stood there, motionless, like a statue. "We can try tracking his phone, but Matsuda probably tossed it by now," Aizawa added.

"I see," the director replied. "I guess the best thing to do is go about this the old fashioned way." Aizawa looked at her. His face still showed a shred of hope. "We'll have to start looking for him," she continued.

Ide cut in, "I don't think he left the city. Maybe he's hiding in some motel. It would take awhile, but searching motels might help." Aizawa seemed thoughtful, and the director nodded her head.

"All right then. I guess we should start. Something's better than nothing at this point. I'll go see about tracking Matsuda's phone. You'll go out and start asking around," the director ordered. "Oh, and I don't think we should make posters or anything. We don't want people thinking he's some kind of fugitive." That was a good point. The last thing we needed was some bounty hunter going after him too. "Let's just keep this between us. I hate to say this, but anyone else would give one of you four up in a heartbeat after the Kira case." I didn't want to agree with her, but she was right. We were like our own faction. No one else really fit in. We were separated from the rest of the world. We were becoming known in the law enforcement community as the four who helped bring about Kira's demise, which could be taken in either a good or bad way depending on the person.

"Understood, Director," we said in unison.

"That is all."

We spun around and started for the elevator. I was certain we would find Matsuda, no matter what it took.