Disclaimer: My name is King, I suck at chess really bad, and I do not own Death Note.
Devil's Trill
III: Devil's Trill
CH21
Happiness – pt.1
It was gradual but oh no, not slow; the dark thoughts built up and filled out his mind quickly, but it was still tedious because every thought that came to his mind was broken down into smaller thoughts and thinking patterns.
The pattern that emerged was anything but pleasing or nice, and the further L got away from Wammy's and England, the weaker his will to suppress these thoughts became. L found himself flying thousands of feet above an ocean and wondering what the bloody hell he was thinking. And he realized his facial expression was as friendly as a world-class serial killer's expression should be, and he realized the half-empty plane became crowded in parts where he wasn't, and how even Mello moved away from him far enough to be able to jump out of his seat and make a run for it should L snap.
And L felt he really should snap and humor the flight attendants and passengers by snapping their necks and arriving in Japan with a plane-full of dead people just to prove a point, maybe more to himself than anyone else, that he, L, was a crazy murderer.
As L seemed to have forgotten.
As he allowed himself to forget, as he allowed that little fake-brunette bastard to forget.
That he was L, that he was as safe and cuddly as a sack of spikes, that he, as L, didn't tolerate defiance, that he, as L, did not lose.
L could easily see how his rare spark humanity was very easy to take advantage of, how L would rather believe that beautiful boy than see the truth and kill him to save himself.
He wanted that boy, badly, there was absolutely no doubt in that. He wanted to smack him around, to make him repent for what he did, make him realize L wasn't going to harm him because L was a lovesick puppy when that stupid boy decided to stab him in the back...
L was feeling betrayed and wronged, and instead of sulking when he was feeling sorry for himself, L made people repent and realize it was too late to repent.
But more than anything, L wanted that stupid little back-stabbing bastard to see how L fell in love, and how love didn't go away just because of a stupid back-stabbing prank gone terribly wrong.
L would have still been a love-sick puppy, still and as heartless of a bastard as he himself was, he would have still found it in his heart to forgive and move on.
But there was an issue of the heart. The heart he didn't have anymore. Instead of his own living, beating heart, the hole in his chest that boy carved out was filled with tiny plastic tubes and chemically-treated animal tissue.
It was nasty.
And it was the price.
The price for being a heartless son of a bitch who made countless families father-less, or mother-less, or child-less and very unhappy and look for his own personal happiness.
…and finding that happiness in a boy, and slowly slipping into a state of blissful oblivion where there was L, the boy, and their own personal happiness.
The heart that let him stay in the state of blissful, happy oblivion was gone. It was a price to pay.
And it was paid in full.
His physical heart was served to Light Yagami on a silver plate, and with that heart, Light took L's ability to remain oblivious and happy, the happiness itself, and most of that love.
This was the price to pay for Light Yagami.
There was love left.
Nasty kind of love, the best kind of love that nasty fake heart thing that kept him alive could provide.
Vengeful, hating, selfish... not even sexual in the respect of caressing that soft, beautiful skin, but sexual in a way to show that at the end of the day, L was still top, and the beautiful person that captured L's mind and would never let go was still powerless to stop his moans and screams.
L would do that to him, oh yes.
How far were they?
Mello thought about an hour.
Chances of Raito-kun actually staying true to his word and not skipping the bail were ridiculously nonexistent.
As still, L hoped for both of theirs sakes' that when L got to the Yagami residence, Light would spread his legs, or God help him if he wasn't there to do it.
All this had much to do with his leaving Wammy's, he wouldn't dare to think about these bad things there.
And now he was set free to think whatever he wanted.
And this was it.
He was going to catch his Raito, because, L realized, his only wish was Light.
Having him, just having him. Not owning him like a thing, not having him constantly around, and not having access to his sex parts whenever L damn well pleased, either.
Having him.
Whatever that meant, L would figure out later.
After he'd caught him and scared the living shit out of him, and quite possibly smacked him around lightly.
They arrived in Tokyo in the early morning, and while Mello complained about the jet lag, L purchased bullet train tickets and two beers.
For himself.
"You know, you're one scary motherfucker when you drink," said Mello and L paid him no mind.
He drank alcohol when he was angry. The strong kind. He'd prefer a Scotch, but the vending machines only offered beer, and at least beer was cold and would help the unbearable heat and stickiness of late summer.
He also needed extra guts to walk around Japan in broad daylight with Mello in tow when Mello's sketches (and nothing but, because Matt took care of actual photos) were plastered all over billboards and poles where glue melted and leaked from the summer heat, and he, as Ryuzaki Rue, was something akin to being resurrected.
Thank god for Mello's convenient scar.
This was okay as long as they didn't run into NPA members that experienced them first-hand.
Then, L remembered the beer in his hand and realized beer was a little too low for his dignity, so he gave it up to Mello in favor of fresh lemonade.
The Yagami residence was... L had never been anywhere near here, so having checked the number of the house matched the house where Light should have been, Mello parked the inconspicuous UPS truck.
L would go in, grab Light, and go.
And according to what was Soichiro Yagami's car parked in the driveway, Soichiro Yagami was home, and no reports of Light going missing came to police that showed up in the database, so Light should be home right now.
"Take out the chief, grab him, if you're not back in four minutes, I'm going after you."
L pulled adjusted the bulletproof vest under his UPS uniform.
"No go, Mello. I'm not touching the father, nor are you."
Mello gave him a pointed stare.
"I like him a lot more than his son right about now," Mello opened his month, but L cut him off, "don't even think about it. Four minutes."
He hopped out, and Mello shifted gears and re-parked the truck right in the Yagami driveway, blocking the chief's car and the garage.
L rang the bell, a cloth soaked in chloroform ready...
Once, twice.
No answer.
He knocked and yelled something about a two-thousand dollar computer that had to be paid for upon delivery. Anyone would freak out and run for the door for that, and all L got from that came from the lazy summer breeze that ruffled the Yagami lawn.
But no answer.
Shit.
He dropped the box he was holding, the chloroform rag and dashed around the house, knocked out a kitchen window, shrugged off the UPS uniform jacket to fit though easily and landed on the sink counter. His running shoes squeaked against the marble countertop and L shrugged out of them in under a second before hopping off the counter soundlessly in his socks.
The kitchen was spotless and there was no food.
The woman of the house was not home.
This left Light, Soichiro and the little sister.
The TV in the living room was off, and a set of pink house slippers lay in the corner of the room right next to a coffee table with a pile of fashion magazines.
Light and the father were the only ones home.
It was quiet, very quiet, and L didn't need to go upstairs to know there was nobody there. This was a traditional house. If anyone was walking upstairs, he would hear it. Shoes in the hallway were only Light's.
But the father was there for sure. The car was there.
Something was up. The house sounded empty, and now would the time the father should be picking up Light for the court hearing.
He was in for more than four minutes. He heard a tiny piece of glass break against the marble counter.
Mello was in.
And then he heard it. A soft gulping sound and a high moan coming from the room with the TV and the coffee table. The sounds were faint, and L could not have missed a person in that room unless the person was on the floor and not moving.
He whipped out a gun with a silencer just in case, and looked at the only blind spot of the room where there shouldn't really be anybody.
But was.
"He's gone, let's go," Mello hissed behind him, but L didn't more from his spot in the doorway, and Mello was behind him in no time to see what L saw.
"Shit, dude, don't even think about it."
"R-raaaito...?" gasps for air interrupted Soichiro Yagami from finishing whatever he was about to say. The man lay on the hardwood floor with his eyes barely open, clutching at his shirt in a fetal position.
Heart attack.
He was having a heart attack.
His cellphone was just out of his reach, and so was the ankle brace used for monitoring suspects that were not supposed to exit a certain area.
Yagami came home to pick up his son only to find an ankle brace. Had a heart attack on the spot.
"Let's go."
L pursed his lips together.
This man was going to die if he went.
"L-! Seriously?"
L was at Soichiro's side at once, holding his shoulders down while pulling the man on his back and giving him breathing room.
The man looked like he'd seen a ghost for only a moment before his face turned furious despite the pain.
"YOU-"
"Mello, call ambulance from the house phone, monitor the streets, tell me when the car is five blocks away," Mello whipped out the iPhone Matt equipped with emergency vehicle monitoring system and picked up the nearby phone without a complaint.
L was still in charge, Mello knew when to listen, and Yagami was getting angry in favor of getting worse.
"Y-you son of a b-bitch-"
"I suggest Yagami-san focuses on breathing rather than saying things that are suicidal seeing both positions he is in."
"Get the f-fuck... awa-y from my s-sso-"
L didn't hear any of it and got the man up on the couch, threw the flowers out of a small vase and gave him water.
The faint foam and spit around the man's mouth splattered when he tried to explain just how much of a bastard L was and why in a very impolite manner, and L held him down to keep his air passages open and gave him water.
Mello declared the ambulance was almost five blocks away.
"Y-you pi-piece of-"
L looked down at the Chief.
Though L didn't find Light Yagami yet, L found something else.
Thank you.
They grabbed their things they left around the house and left the same way they came, and the UPS truck sped past the rushing ambulance.
Humanity, huh?
---
Mello didn't say anything on their way to return the UPS truck to where they 'borrowed' it from because a stolen UPS truck would no doubt arouse suspicion, nor did he say anything when they switched cars to a very old Volvo, changed their clothes to look as trashy as ever and checked into a single-room love-motel for the night.
This was the safest thing to do on such short notice, considering L thought exactly one day ahead of things, and now they had no plan.
The old TV the motel room provided talked briefly about the NPA chief suffering a heart attack and recovering in a local hospital before asking for donations for the local animal shelter.
Nothing on Light. Light's whole affair was hushed from the public because well, NPA did screw up catching L big-time, and to save face they were probably going to cut Light a huge deal and put him in minimal security for a year at most anyway...
And still, Light ran away.
Of course he would.
And the worst part was that L didn't have the faintest clue as to just where the hell that boy went.
Mello was checking the surveillance videos of train stations, bus stations and ATM machines for any clues, but Kanto was big, Matt was at a Star Trek con in England, and teenage gangsters that wore hoods and sunglasses around train stations, bus stations and ATM machines were plentiful.
In short, this would take weeks, L didn't have weeks, and Light, being the attention-loving beauty he was, would surface shortly.
So all L had to do was wait.
So he sat on the floor, then on the chair, then under a table. Then he walked around the bed for a few minutes, then he sat on the floor again.
Weeks didn't pass.
It was hot. The air of the room was getting stuffy already, despite having a functional air conditioner.
Mello was getting hungry, tired and grumpy.
And just as L was about to go downstairs and grab some food form the vending machines because this kind of place very obviously didn't have room service, the do-not-disturb sign at the other side of the door was bluntly ignored and someone knocked.
Mello looked at L, L shrugged.
A fat, balding man with grease all over the few hairs he had left stood in the doorway two heads shorter than L.
"Hey, o', sorry Sir, uh, I'm int'rupting, but y'see, yer... lady friend, good day t' yer lady friend, got a box waitin' fo' 'er downstairs wi' my reception girl," the man gave Mello a look and turned even more red and round, "'m sorry, yer sir friend got a box. Ya gotta get it, the kid left me tip ta give it ta ya, but that was a week ago-"
Mello gave L a questioning look, but L didn't know what was going on either, so the blonde followed the fat man and came back in under a minute with a box.
"What the hell," said Mello, setting a newspaper-wrapped string instrument-shaped box on the bed.
It was...
A violin case.
L tore the newspaper wrapping off and found a sleek, black leather case. It was heavy, it didn't rattle. It was full. The lock was golden.
"Is that expensive?"
"No, it's a knockoff," L opened it. The fine curves of the violin inside were magnificent. The coating sparkled and the strings were tight. The rounded edges ran in a smooth line around the entire body of the instrument.
In was very nice, though L could tell just by looking at it it was not the real Antonio Stradivari deal this violin was made to imitate, it was still very, very delicate.
"It's kind of orange," said Mello, and L resisted an urge to whack Mello with a drum stick to get him to appreciate finer instruments, "so what's up with this."
"Mello, there is a major library nearby, isn't there?"
"Yeah?"
"This is from Light," L felt small smile tug at the corners of his lips.
"He's fucking here? And he risked shit to give you a present? L, there's something wrong with your brain."
Yes, technically this was a present for L.
"No, this is for Mello."
Mello looked at L as if L plucked the bird out of the sky and ate it, alive, with feathers and everything.
"Mello, do you know the story of the Devil's Trill?"
Mello knew.
"Light does too. I told him once he was the Tartini of the story, chasing me, the Devil, but never quite catching up."
"So he gave you a violin."
"He gave you a violin. See, he tried catching up to me, but he thinks I'm dead now, so he can't catch me anymore."
"..."
"This means you are the Devil now, and he gave you this so he can race against you as Tartini. He could have easily gotten a real one. This is a knockoff, and it's for you because you are the new L, but you will never be as good as me."
"He must be devastated. So he gave you this fake, so he can go after you, so when he can defeat you, you can die and give this fake to me, and I can take the fake and know I wasn't as good as him, so then our roles would be revered and he would finally be the Devil. This is what he's missing. He needs this."
L sighed, closed his eyes and smiled, tracing the smooth violin with a fingertip, and Mello didn't disturb his peace for a long time until he came up with something to say.
"Okay, L. Two points made here. He's fucking insane and you're fucking insane."
Yes.
L would agree to that, it was the delicate insane truth, and both he and Light were guilty of indulging in this insanity.
This violin sat here for a week like the fat man said, waiting for a blonde boy that looked like a girl with a scar to check in and pick it up.
"How the fuck'd he know I'd be here?"
"A hunch."
Mello tired prying, but L didn't tell him anything. Instead, he told Mello that the violin was ultimately for L anyway, so he should just give it up. Mello had no problem with giving up 'that creepy thing', so L took it out of the case and looked at it lovingly for hours with a stupid grin on his face.
This motel-
"How many fingers am I holing up?"
"Six."
The young man was heavy, and L's white sweater was soaking in water by the time he carried, or rather dragged, the unconscious body to the dedicated motel-slash-headquarters.
The unconscious body was lead-heavy and ice-cold and the absence of heat transferred though the water though L's sweater and onto his skin, crawled up his spine and made him shudder.
The best idea would have been to leave the young man where he found him; that is, two feet underwater.
Or maybe just get rid of him altogether because other than monitoring Mello's involvement with Yotusba, he had nothing to do, hence he crucified a random man he on a nearby sakura tree.
That blonde... girl had a thing for trouble, and L was sure this would end badly should L have stayed behind. It was because trouble didn't find Mello, but rather Mello specifically hunted down trouble, and when trouble managed ignore him, Mello would take trouble by the shins and make it stare at his face. Hence L was watching over the blonde.
Then he got bored.
Of course, this young man he carried could easily serve as a decoration to an apple tree, or something of sorts, and oh, L was genuinely considering what kind of thing he should do with this unfortunate bystander, but the soaking boy currently draped limply over his shoulder seemed very much like a screamer, so keep him quiet L made mistake of having a conversation with him.
And it was a question, a stupid question at that, asked only to distract the drunk boy enough to knock his lights out, and still...
Six.
An answer of six to the question of how many fingers on one hand L was holding out could explain many things.
Why this young man was drunk on a weekend before exams while he should be cramming, for example. Answering 'six' to the number of fingers on one hand could mean that no amount of studying would help this stupid lovechild of traditional culture and angry rock music; hence he was drunk and depressed.
That, however, wasn't the case at all.
Not with this boy.
It was how that six was said. It was... like despite being intoxicated to the point of not distinguishing ditch from sidewalk and giving a stupid answer, the young man answered 'six' with the confidence of a person who had never been wrong in his entire life.
Six was said in an absolute manner.
Six was said with power.
Six made L actually look down at his hand and make sure one hand, in fact only had five fingers.
Hence the young man still had a heartbeat when L took a room from a female clerk who was too busy to pay proper attention to a shady character and an unconscious victim in favor of furiously arguing over the phone with what appeared to be an angry girlfriend.
L made a note to make sure that clerk would not see the end of the day, just like this boy...
So he dumped him on the squeaky mattress of the love motel and watched the blue lips quiver and the clothed chest rise and fall. The room was lit well, and the damp locks stuck to the pale, freezing skin quite beautifully; despite as good as dying slowly from hypothermia with no consciousness to save him, the pretty person in bed was quite pretty.
Maybe it was the lighting, or the angle, but the man on the bad was perfect in every sense of the word. How L didn't notice this before was beyond him, but in his defense it was pitch-black where he'd first caught this beauty. L turned the light off and walked around the man.
Still very pretty.
Very suddenly, L was regretting knocking the boy out.
Maybe he could just... no good. In addition to being as conscious as a rock, the soaked beautiful young man was also as cold as a rock.
And that couldn't be very pleasant.
Judging by the looks of it, hypothermia settled before L even got to him, and though the weather wasn't nasty, it was still early January. He was going to freeze to death.
L should just leave him.
Six.
"Hey. Wake up," L smacked the pale cheek a few times.
Caramel eyes met his, but they were narrowed into liquid-gold slits, and the shivering was getting hectic.
"Cold? Yes, well-" L let his eyes trail down the lithe body in appreciation... well, if the boy was awake, it changed everything. L undid the buttons on the soaking shirt, creating warm friction by rubbing circles with a bedsheet on the flesh as it got exposed.
So many possibilities.
L threw the clothing at the heater, just in case, and the realized he shouldn't have done that either, because drying the clothes for the boy implied he would let him out of this, one too.
Still, though...
Letting someone as soft-skinned, well-built and physically incapable of resisting L's advances go around clothed would be a shame.
L made a little hood out of the sheet and wrapped the young man in it. He looked cute, and just barely conscious.
Alcohol and cold were never a good idea, but then again, what L was going wasn't such a brilliant idea, either.
For all he knew, this boy could cause a war.
Hell, he could even be L's downfall.
Not likely, L thought, and made his common sense shut up. He would do the boy into the headboard, hard, and then do away with him. There. The whole six thing was probably just a fluke-
"W-warmm..." the half-dry brunette head pressed into L's chest, as if begging for comfort.
"Yes, sure," L refused it, of course, and pushed the boy back and onto the bed, "just go like this, yes."
Though he didn't stay down for long; he tried rolling to either side and curling up into himself looking for warmth, or at least attach himself to L's neck, so L smacked him away and pinned his hands above his head, flat on his back, and cute whine stroked his ego when he took away the bedsheet.
The young man had a very nice body, and dressed in nothing but socks and underpants, L's member gave an approving twitch.
Oh, for God's sake.
L barely got him to the bathroom and over the toilet before he heaved heavily. L resigned, sighed and rubbed circles on the lightly toned back, even held the damp hair out of the way.
No, having sex with him now was definitely a bad idea, though oh, was L tempted despite the smell of acidic vomit and heavy booze.
It was here that L decided this pretty young man would live at least long enough to prove himself in bed. In L's bed.
But really, what could he do?
The boy was drunk, that much was obvious.
There was barely a chance he'd remember L's face from when he first grabbed him.
This little encounter he would most definitely not remember at all, because being woken up form drunken stupor would most definitely not register. Ever. Now was the perfect time.
For some reason, he didn't feel like it. But maybe he was just making excuses?
Why would he do that?
L would just have to get him later, won't he?
He could always make it a game.
He waited 'till the boy finished vomiting into the motel toilet, cleaned him up and carried him back to the bed because at this point, walking was proving troublesome.
Well, at least he was warm now.
L sat him down on the bed. Instead of sitting upright boy collapsed, but his eyes were still open, staring at L.
"Hello," said L.
"Hi."
"What's your name?"
"Wa's your name?"
"I asked first," L lifted a finger up childishly.
"I du'n care."
"Hmm."
"Say... I saw you kill som'ne there, din't I?"
L's ears perked. Not good.
"Yes, so?"
"So I was tryin' to do that too."
"Oh really? To whom?"
"To me."
"But have you not asked me not to kill you then?"
"Huuuh?"
"Ah, never mind. Can I ask why?"
"Why I tried killing 'me'?"
"Yes."
"Cause it was fun."
"Fun?"
"An' not boring, an' it was som'ng I'ven't done before."
L thought about the situation he'd found this young man in.
"Were you trying to drown?"
"Yeah, in a river, and it had sharks in it, and it'd be exiting to get eaten by a shark."
More like, extremely painful, L noted, amused by the conversation more than he should be.
Besides, L didn't find this boy in a river full of sharks.
L found him in a decorative pond with sparkly fish.
"So you don't want your life anymore?"
"Not really."
"I can take it, then?"
"Nope."
L wondered if the boy realized he would most definitely receive death if he asked for it now.
"But if you don't want your life, why not just give it to me?" he tried again, almost hoping the shivering brunette would sign away his life there and then, and L wouldn't have to deal with whatever would happen if he let him live.
"Nuh-uh. My life. You can't just have it."
"Why not?"
"'Cause tha's boring. I wan'... I wan'... I wan' to die in an exciting way. Like... like go with a boom, y'know? Like, in a game, maybe."
L didn't like where this was going. With every word this young man slured, L was getting more and more... intrigued. Trapped. This was fun.
Fun.
L wanted fun, too, more than anything, and if the six and the fun would prove to be a challenge...
"A game?" L thought about the game first. Then, this boy thought the same. Was this somehow… bad?
"Yea, y'know what? I'll bet my life, 'cause you want it."
"Alright. What do I have to bet?"
"Mmm... your happiness."
"My happiness?"
"Everyone wants happiness. I want happiness. If I win, I get your happiness. Thanks, b'the way."
"For what?"
"S' like, you saved me from suicide there. Thanks."
L stared at him then.
L didn't save people from suicides.
L killed people.
Or L made people commit suicides.
"Your face's funny, I liked your face better wh'n you were checking me out."
"Really now?"
"Yea. Make that face again and," and the boy uncoiled from his warm ball awkwardly, "you can help yourself. Y'know?"
L knew.
"Want to play a game with me?"
"Talk to my lawyer about it."
"What?"
"My name. Don't you want my name and phonenumber?"
Charming.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Six."
"Still six? What about now?"
"I don't have to count that one," said the boy proudly, "it's just two hands, so six by two. Twelve."
Logic.
Powerful, flawless logic.
L wondered briefly before pulling out an L card from his back pocket. This card was a death sentence, and L watched dully as the beautiful young man scribbled his name and phonenumber at the back of it.
And with the last sloppy chicken-scratch stroke, L wondered if the boy knew he just signed a death wish.
"Call me," he winked.
L stared at the card. It was a reminder not to get too carried away with this one.
And still, he'd play until it became repetitive and boring, and though each and every step this boy would make, L would take ten ahead, and he would know whenever there was something up, L would know...
Because he was L.
Because L was careful.
Because L didn't take unnecessary risks for anyone.
Because L always knew what was going on.
Because L would never lose his head, over anything.
Because L always made the correct, safe decisions.
Because L didn't lose.
"They game is on, then."
The boy said nothing, finally asleep.
L grabbed the warmed and still semi-wet clothing from the heater and did the shameful job of dressing such a perfect body.
What the heck was he thinking?
This was just another boy, a college kid by the looks of it.
He wouldn't be able to keep up with L.
Game L's behind.
He'd screw him later, get it out of his system, and move on.
That would be the end of it.
Matt: The irony, no?
A/N: What are you doing here?
Matt: Well, since I'm the senior executive VP of kidnappings of this story and shit, I'd like to proudly declare Chapter 21 free, on time, as promised.
A/N: That is CORRECT! Thank you Matt! Proper update, within exactly a week, Friday morning. Why? Well because the reviewers did a good job of bribing the Chapter away from my evil withholding claws.
Shoutouts for reviews go to DrRabbit, lil joker, Sueona, Hello, IsobelAnis, Sovoyita, Nardaviel, happyalien, incandescentglow, angellovedark, ellan54, fluffy2044, merichuel, Black-Dranzer-1119, justakid123, Memories Faded, Dacara, Emery Board, My Favorite Crooked Smile, nasc3nt, Your Alien, lili evil anon =], Katsheswims, bubblepop, s3v3n-d34d1135, Not Yet Knowing, Kyro259, Rin5o, LMNear, rain angst, ssjRaina, Donatellolover, JediMasterWithAPen, amycakes, Anna Marie Lynn, Hime, Dark Green Poop, ArtistOfLight and AngelToes! I haven't ever seen some of you guys before! XD Amazing what threats can do, no? LOVEEE!!!
I LOVE YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! You guys are great and wonderful and I love youuuu, and I got a few reviews about the children and L, and just like when people were saying, "Lemme guess, Soichiro's gonna shoot Light and L, L'll kill him and they run away, am I right or am I right? 8D", I can't really say anything other than hold yer horses. It'll come after the Happiness is over.
Light: -eyes Happiness- How many...? Oh God, how did you even...?!
A/N: Don't ask. T_T Anyway, newest guest speaker!
Chapter 22: Hello, I am Chapter 22. I contain a hunt with a twist. I don't contain any boring Light-narration, thank god, but I do hold insane plot from hell in which Light finally wins.
Matt: What does he win?
Chapter 22: Who knows. But unfortunately, I am tied up in Miss King's basement. I have no food to get strength from. I will die if I don't get strength. Good news is, reviews give me strength to get out of here! :D
A/N: -sits down at chapter 22-
Help Chapter 22 break free!
Press the magic button and review!
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