I like this chapter. I had fun writing it.

Matt POV

Mello has been back once since he got the Mafia under his control, and just to give me instructions and tell me not to worry, he'll be back soon, and now that he has the mafia he can contact me when he's out.

He sends me an update every other day or so, but it's been a week, and I miss him.

The only thing Mello has needed me to do is unlock the Mafia site and stuff relating to that, so I've been sitting around playing video games the whole week. When we moved here I convinced Mello to let me get an Xbox. I spend most of my time sitting on the floor in front of the TV now. But my video games can't take the place of Mello.

I'll admit it; I'm not doing so well without him. I constantly miss him, and I sometimes wish things could be like how they were at Wammy's, and then in Japan with L. At least I saw Mello every day back then.

I sigh and go about reading Mello's newest instructions. He wants me to go to some old warehouse and set up security cameras and wire taps. Apparently there is going to be an exchange of something.

Matt,

I need you to set up security cameras and taps at the address I listed below. Get it done by tomorrow afternoon at the latest, and be thorough. There's going to be a purchase of arms there, and we need to make sure it goes well. The box of stuff is in the back of my closet.

And be careful, please.

-Mello

He's always telling me to be safe, but if he's going to act like he's throwing his life away, then what's the point of me being so careful? Mello is such a hypocrite sometimes.

I get up from my spot on the couch and make my way over to Mello's room. It's very practical for us to have our own rooms, and Mello obviously doesn't want gaming posters all over the walls. I'm naturally messy, and while Mello is a bit cluttered as well, he's far more organized than I.

I open the door to Mello's room. It smells like him in here (which is a good thing), and the blinds are open, letting daylight filter into the room. His bed is made (well, the blanket has been carelessly flattened over the sheets and the pillows are straightened, and by my standards that's more than made) and his closet door is just a few inches open.

I walk over to it and slide it the rest of the way open, before leaning over to find the box of stuff. Mello has a decoy box of guns in here, some junk, and probably chocolate hidden somewhere. It doesn't take me very long to find the surveillance equipment. I pull out the medium sized box and shut the door with my shoulder.

I return to the couch with the box. I'll go tonight, when I'm least likely to be noticed. For now, I have nothing to do but play my video games.

As soon as it begins to get dark four hours later, I turn everything off and lock up. I pull my vest on and carry the box of equipment down the stairs to he garage where my car is parked.

I love my car. It's all red and shiny and pretty fucking badass. There is no better description for it than that. I think the only things I love more are my video games and Mello, and of course Mello tops that list.

If only he could be around more. I miss him like crazy when he's gone doing who-knows-what to catch Kira for days and weeks at a time.

I stick the box in the passenger seat and walk around to the other side, getting in and starting my car up quickly. The roads aren't too busy today, what with it being a Sunday night, and it doesn't take me long to get to the warehouse Mello mentioned.

It's located about twenty minutes away from our apartment in a less populated section of older warehouses, some used for storage and others unused. The one Mello specified is one of those still in use, so it has electricity, but it is hardly ever looked into anymore. Once and a while as I drive through I stop and slip into one of the warehouses with electricity and turn the lights on, so that when I do my work it won't be obvious where I am. I park my car in the alley between two of the buildings, concealing it in the shadows.

I get out with the equipment and check twice that I have definitely locked my car before slipping through the side entrance to the building at my right. My destination is the next one over; I decided it was best to park a little ways away.

This is one of the unused ones. There are holes in the roof and loose board sin the walls. It's quite dusty and cobwebby in here. There is hardly five feet of space between this one and the next, but I still check to make sure no one is watching me cross the short space.

I groan when I enter the next warehouse, the one I'm supposed to bug (I'm surprised that all these doors are unlocked, but whatever). It's not that big, but it will take at least two hours. It's getting dark kind of quickly, so I walk over to the big switch on the wall and flip it. Dying florescent lights flicker to life on the ceiling. There are no windows near the top, just a vent to let light through, and all the doors are shut. I should be fine.

I don't waste time in scoping out good places to put cameras, and figuring out where the blind spots are. Although I'm better with computers, cameras are pretty simple to. It just requires time to wire them all. I just have to set it up so they can connect with Mello's computer, so he can turn them on when needed.

It really isn't that difficult of a task to complete, and I start moving automatically, my mind drifting. I get a little too distracted, though, because I notice just a little too late in noticing that I'm not alone. I don't know what exactly tips me off, but one second I'm fiddling with a camera in the dim light and the next I'm pulling my gun out from under my shirt and whipping around, cocking it.

But I'm not quite fast enough. There's already two guns pointed at me, aimed at my chest by two very obvious looking thugs.

"Who the 'ell are you?" the man on the right demands. He's pretty much ripped and his arms are covered in tattoos. He has a cigar in his mouth. His buddy on the left is smaller, but still looks like he's spent more than a few hours lifting weights in the gym.

I sigh inwardly and say around my cigarette, "What's it to you?"

"You're the one who's out here all alone, settin' up surveillance stuff," says the smaller one.

"Why do you care, exactly?" I narrow my eyes. "Oh, let me guess, you two are hiding something in here. Drugs, probably. Well, you should probably move them, because I don't think the Mafia would appreciate you hiding your shit in here."

Tattoo guy scowls at me. "You're clever, I'll give you that. But I doubt you work with the Mafia."

"You're right, I don't, but I can tell you right now that I'm doing them a favor here, setting up all of this. So why don't you put your guns down, get your coke or whatever it is you're hiding in here, and let me finish?"

Both their scowls harden. Oh well, it was worth a shot. I knew they probably wouldn't be in for an agreement like that. There are too many reasons not to do trust me and instead send a few rounds through my chest. For starters, I'm just some kid who's rigging the warehouse they decided to stash their crack in, if that is what they're hiding here. They have every reason to shoot me, and they probably will

"Lower your gun and hold your hands up, and do now that or we'll both shoot you until you die," snarls tattoo man. I can hear no trace of bluff in his tone and see none in his face, so I do as he says.

"Now, we don't want to kill you, you know? Not our job."

"Boss wouldn't be too happy if we did something like that without good reason," mutters the smaller one.

"Oh, so you two are part of a group huh? Some street gang?"

They both snarl at me. "We're more than just some street gang! We're the Poison Fangs!"

I seriously have to struggle to hold back a snort at this. "That is the cheesiest name I have ever heard, I think No, well, Trigger Happy Tigers was the worst ever. I mean, come on, why can't you people be more creative? Names like that just sound way too desperate-"

Tattoo guy shoots his gun.

I cry out as the bullet grazes my left arm, causing my fingers to uncurl from around my gun (dammit, my gun arm. That's fucking helpful). My hand flies instinctively to the tear in my shirt, and I look down at the cut. It isn't that bad, but it stings like a bitch. There's blood on my fingers, and my shirt.

"Damn it," I hiss through my teeth. "You got blood on my shirt!"

"Shut up or I'll put another one through your head!"

Again, there is absolute sureness to his tone. He is dead serious, and he will shoot my brains out. I think now is a good time to grit my teeth and shut up. The sudden sting of pain from the cut on my arm is slowly fading, but it's being replaced by a sharpish ache. My blood wells up at the tear in my skin and starts making it's way down.

Ouch.

At a gesture from tattoo guy, the pair moves forward, and I don't dare to move as they approach me, because they still have their guns trained on me. The smaller one grabs my arms and pulls them back behind me, and I hiss as this triggers another stab of pain from the scratch. I try to resist, but as much as I hate to admit it, I'm not very strong. I'm the techie, not the bodyguard.

There are still two guns pointed at my head, one from the front and the other from behind me. It's quite unnerving to be in such a position. I really hope they don't decide to just get rid of me and stuff me in a crate from the back of the building to clear the evidence.

It's now that I realize how fucked I am.

What on earth am I supposed to do? For one, no one knows where the hell these goons will take me or what they'll do to me. For another thing, Mello is going to be both pissed and incredibly frustrated. Mello has enough stress (he hides it well, but there has never been a time in his life when he didn't feel like he had to be the best, I know that for sure. He practically carries the weight of the world on his back), and enough problems.

I'm pretty sure he'd be worried out of his mind, but I realize that I can't say that for sure right now.

I think that thought is what triggers my sudden fear. I mean, what the hell do I do now?

"Right, Max, we should take 'im out, and then one of us can run back and get the stuff," tattoo guy informs his friend, apparently Max.

"We're gonna take him back to the Den?"

"Yeah, we just need to knock him out first."

"Wait, what?" I scowl. If I'm unconscious, how am I supposed to figure out where I'm going or what the fuck is going on? "Uh, could we not?"

"I told you to shut up!" His finger inches back over the trigger, threatening to shoot. The grip on me tightens painfully. "You're lucky we don't just shoot you now! It would be easy to get rid of you. In fact, why don't-" he is cut off by another bang, a gunshot, and a bullet that comes straight out of his shoulder milliseconds later. I automatically flinch, and the gun goes off again, hitting my captor. He releases me, choking, and I scramble away.

Both the men are on the ground, their blood splattered around them, spewing curse words through their teeth. I look around for my mystery savior (this is turning into a video game rescue adventure. Except for the fact that I'm in very real pain and very real danger), and my eyes fall on the person standing in the doorway. I can't see them too well in the dim lighting, combined with the darkness from outside, but I can tell that their figure is slim, and they are tall, taller than me, and possibly Mello as well. They are definitely male.

He chooses this moment to walk towards the men, gun still out and ready to shoot. As light falls on his face, I try to keep from gasping. I'm not positive, but they are so familiar, is it possible… No. It can't be, right? I don't have the best angle for judging who they are at the moment.

"Who the fuck are you?" Moans tattoo guy.

"No one important." His voice is deeper, but I definitely know it. He doesn't hesitate any longer to shoot both of the thugs through the head, killing them. Smart move…

At this he turns to me, and I get full view of his face. There's no way in hell…

"Hey, Matt-cat. Been a while, hasn't it?"

My suspicions have just been confirmed.

"Aaron."

Annnnd… guess what? Aaron IS important to the story after all! He's not just some guy from Matty past OHH, NO. I have brilliant plans for this guy, people.

Usually I don't like OCs, but I couldn't resist with him. I mean, dark hair, pale green eyes, can shoot a gun AND hit his target, dated Matt… what's NOT to like about this guy?

Oh right, he left Matt. Derp.

Well, that's not the whole story, folks.

And I've already said too much.

Mello: Who the fuck is this bastard? Why is he here? He'd better not be back for Matt.

Matt: Do you realize what you just said?

Mello: Fuck you, Matt.

Matt: Yes, fuck me why don't you?

Mello: …I don't even know you anymore.

Does anyone else thing I totally got Matt's thoughts like, spot-on? No? Okay, yeah, I probably didn't. Well, this chapter was fun to write! And Matt would totally like, LOVE his car, don't'cha think so too?