20. REVENANT
Near has never been fond of chocolate, but, when he does have a moment of weakness, it always falls on the anniversary of Mello's death. Ideally, he'd like to forget about the past and focus his energy and time on future obstacles. But something always crawls back into him on days like today where he finds himself in the midst of many card towers and reading The Boy with No Name by Anonymous, despite knowing the story by heart. It's quite possibly the only time off he values and commits to.
He bites into the candy and lets it melt on his tongue. His taste buds neither melt with it nor repel the tang. They remain indifferent, as does Near. He forces the calorie-filled product down his throat, and it sits in his stomach, bubbling into a messy pile of brown. While it dissolves, Near contemplates that this is not only for Mello's memory but, by extension, L's as well. Justice and vengeance meld together in one last-ditch effort to repel any evil thought that seeps into the young man's mind.
And there are many.
It should not be in the nature of the world's greatest protector to want to kill. But a looming factor lingers in a nearby drawer in his room.
Near lifts himself from a splayed out position on the floor, placing the book down. He weaves through the towers of cards, shuffles to a drawer, opens it, and rifles his hand around for a slip of torn paper.
The piece looks old and brown as if it has been subjected to the elements. To an outsider it would be dispensable. But Near is one of the few people in the entire world who knows this is no simple piece of paper.
The hunger begins to manifest. It draws him in. He's done well to resist its alluring call. But, like chocolate, there are days where his willpower wavers beyond his comfort level.
His mind grows hazy.
Near pushes the piece back into the drawer and slams the drawer shut before he loses control. The hunger lingers for a few painful moments and then slowly evaporates. Near massages his temples before returning to his spot among the cards. He reaches for a stuffed toy he had left next to him on the ground. The toy had been specially crafted to resemble L—even possessing bags under its eyes. He squeezes its body and arms and twists them, practically ripping the fabric. This seems to be the only real way to help quell his hunger.
One of the monitors flicks on and a gothic W appears. "Near, can you hear me?"
"Yes," he replies, clearing his throat. "Go ahead, Watari."
But instead of an answer, the room contorts, and dark shadows loom overhead. Static interrupts their short conversation, and the W disappears. Near props himself up. Did all of the monitors just turn on by themselves? He tries to turn them back off, but the remote doesn't seem to work. No, this is not some unorthodox mistake. This is intended.
Beneath the static comes an inaudible voice.
He sits up, hiking his knees to his chest. His dark eyes narrow at the many gray screens. The static begins to irritate his ears. But the longer he stares into the screens, the more understandable the voice becomes.
Finally, the voice says, "Hello, Nate. It's been too long. Not since Wammy House, I believe?"
Near tenses but says nothing. He can't be entirely sure if he's hallucinating or if this is reality. Though he's leaning toward the latter.
The disembodied voice continues, "How's it been these past few years impersonating your idol?" The static sizzles with distortion.
Near feels a strip of sweat slide down the side of his face. He wipes it away with the heel of his hand as he contemplates whether to respond or wait until the voice has identified itself.
He chooses not to answer.
"I see how it is," the voice says, irritated. "You're wondering whether this is a dream or reality? I assure you that you're not dreaming. After all, your bed's still dry." It laughs.
"Who is it that I'm speaking to?" Based on what the voice has said, he can rule out Light Yagami.
"You really don't remember? Well, I'll give you a few hints before I reveal myself. One, I was also in line to succeed L. Two, I ran away from Wammy House after realizing how much of a shitty place it was. And three, I was single-handedly responsible for the murders of four people in Los Angeles."
Near's eyes widen. "It can't be…"
The television's screen contorts until it warps into two capitalized Bs in gothic text and red ink. Then the words begin to bleed. The blood reaches the bottom of the screens where it seeps out and onto the floor of Near's room. He leans over a tower of cards to see a puddle grow.
A bubble forms at the center of the puddle. It expands until it's at least three feet in diameter. Suddenly, it bursts. Near barely blocks blood from flying into his eyes. He's drenched in the sticky, red liquid, as if half of his room. All of his card towers have fallen, and he bites back the anguish that's begun to build within him. When he lifts his head, someone stands before him.
Black hair, a gaunt, pale body, and piercing, crimson eyes. The young man isn't L, but he sure as hell resembles their predecessor to a disturbing degree. Even Near almost mistakes the face for his predecessor.
"Boo."
A chill runs down Near's spine. "B."
"Actually, it's BB. I would remind you never forget that, but you're not going to live for much longer, and I'm pressed for time."
Near wipes some blood off his face and tries to stack a few cards back together to now avail. "So you've come to kill me?" He almost chuckles at the thought.
BB purses his lips and scratches his chin idly. "That, and I'll need what's in your drawer." He gestures with his head. "I think you know what I'm talking about, Nate." The blood on his body begins to harden. He doesn't seem to be shy knowing another man is staring at his naked body. Though, as long as Near has known him, BB has never been discreet.
"It's in the first drawer, under the board," Near says.
BB saunters over to the drawers and follows Near's directions until he collects what he needs. While he's there, he also takes some clean clothes to wear for later. Near had grown a few inches in the years after Kira's end. Enough that BB can fit into his size. Near always had a habit of buying attire a few sizes too large regardless.
BB stuffs the piece of paper into the jeans he pulled out of Near's drawer. "How's that old fart Watari doing?"
"He's dead. He died the same time as L."
BB's eyes widen. "Really?" All of a sudden, a burst of laughter spills out of him. He grabs his chest with one hand and claps his palm over his mouth to hold himself back. The reaction is far overdue. "Good riddance. I hated that geezer," he says, coughing from a lack of oxygen intake. "Glad to know he's a rotten corpse. Wish I had seen him die, though."
"He raised us."
"So?" BB's tone deepens. "You think I give a shit?" He picks up the L doll Near had been playing with and turns it around in his hands. "Besides, isn't it natural for children to want to kill their parents?" He pulls the doll's arms so hard, the fabric tears.
Near sits on the question, letting it sink in and digest inside of him. "It would have to depend on the relationship and the justifications behind said relationship. For example, if a father strikes his son—"
"Don't try to weasel around the truth," BB hisses. "You know as well as I that man deserved what he got. Big Brother didn't."
"L understood the risks," Near counters. "If not for his sacrifice, Mello and I wouldn't have succeeded. I'll always have him to thank."
"Ah, gotcha. L sure had a way of looking out for us, didn't he?" BB tosses the doll and plops down on a stack of fallen cards. "Everything we are will always be traced right back to him."
"Of course, we were trained as his backups."
"Backups," BB echoes and stifles a laugh. "Is that all we are?"
"Nothing else."
"You sure wanna die, huh?"
Near collects the doll and tends to the rip across its shoulder. Without the proper utensils he has no way of rectifying it to its former appeal. "I've done my part. I would prefer to live, but seeing as you're here and have the power to kill me, struggling or begging isn't quite, how should I say, my style."
BB grins, impressed. "You always were the brat of the bunch. That much Mello and I could agree on."
Near feels a smile tug at his face. "You two were quite similar. You both admired L to…questionable degrees."
"Don't be like that," BB says. "You wish you could've been like him, too. He's our big brother. We looked up to him."
"I did admire him, yes. But now he's dead."
BB's eyes watch him for an uncomfortable amount of time. "Is that what you think?" He leans forward. Their faces are so close, Near can feel the man's breath tickle his skin. "Do you think he'd stay dead if I'm here alive and well?" His red eyes glimmer in excitement. "The game is about to begin, Nate. I'll finally be able to show L what I'm capable of."
Near shakes his head and sighs. "Even if what you say is true, you'll never be him. Alone, none of us can compare to L."
BB stands up and cracks his neck. "You know something, Nate. I respect your mind and determination, but I've never liked you. You wanna know why? Because you look at everything so analytically. Your world is black and white. Everyone else's world is gray." He opens his arms out wide as if he's about to embrace his brother. Or perhaps he's trying to embrace the air. "But my world is filled with color. Do you know which color is the most beautiful?"
Near presses his lips together. The answer rests on his tongue, but he can't say it. The word forms a sickness in his stomach. If he dares let it out, bile may rise with it.
"Red," BB answers for him.
"So you wished to create a world painted in blood?" Near asks. "If L has returned, he'll stop you."
"Oh, Nate. I hope he does. I really, really do!" He dances around the room. His naked form leaps and bounds in jovial delight. Near has never seen something so erratic since Light Yagami's confession. "Just the thought of L seeing what I've become and what I intend to do to this dull world gets me…" BB stops short near the wall. He leans against it, hunching over like all the contents in his stomach are about to pour out.
Near sits up on his legs.
Instead, a giggle escapes the man's throat. It sounds almost pathetic, like an actor trying to perfect his evil laugh.
Near can't take the sound seriously until it swells and practically shakes the walls.
With BB's back turned, the younger man considers the phone resting on the desk in front of the monitors. All he needs to do is tap a button and at least three security officers will rush in here within seconds.
He slowly leans toward the phone.
BB's laugh abruptly ends, and his tongue clicks. "Now, is that really necessary?" He swirls around, a wicked smile across his face. His petrifying eyes leer at the young man. Every fiber in Near's being freezes solid. The crazed nudist leaps onto him, straddling him against the floor. One hand coils around the younger man's throat. "Let's not be hasty, Nate. I've been quite respectful of you despite our strained history. Besides, calling in your minions is pointless. I can't die by conventional means. If I could, I wouldn't be here, would I?"
"I suppose not."
BB releases his throat. Near can breathe just a bit better but not to his fullest. BB remains on top of him and doesn't seem to be interested in removing his weight.
"Are you a virgin?"
The question comes out so casually that not even someone like Near is prepared for it.
BB tilts his head. "Well?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"It has everything to do with everything, Nate."
The weight on Near's chest begins to clog the blood flow to his extremities, causing them to numb up. "I am."
"And how old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"A twenty-one year old virgin. Not just any virgin—the successor to L, himself—the most powerful man in the world. You could get any amount of pussy for that title alone, Nate. Instead, you sit in here fondling your toys." He takes the L doll again and wiggles it in his hand for emphasis. "Why?"
"I hate the outside," Near admits.
"Hate it?" BB says. "Or, do you actually fear it?"
His heart lurches. Near feels another bead of sweat slip down the side of his face and absorb into his mane of white. His lips part slightly. A world of flame engulfs his vision. Screaming. Crying. Madness. It all hits him at once.
BB smirks and seems to read the answer in his brother's catatonic expression. "I respect your honesty." His hips begin to grind against Near's loins. "Honest men deserve a little compensation." The grinding intensifies until there's tightness in the younger man's jeans. "See? Even geniuses are still human." He slides a hand around Near's neck and the other between the fabric and Near's skin, cupping his fingers around the engorged organ. His smirk thickens. "I think I've found a clue in your pants."
The rhythm builds until the walls tremble. If not for them being soundproof, anyone of Near's neighbors would know what's happening. The impacts become so violent, the monitors rattle.
At the same time, Nears comes inside his pants.
BB removes his wet and sticky hand. He rubs his thumb along each finger and scrunches his nose. The smell isn't to his liking.
"Shame. I had hoped you'd last a bit longer." He rolls off his brother and wipes his hand clean on the other man's shirt. "However, I'm saving myself for someone of higher quality." He winks. "I think you know who I mean."
Near doesn't respond. His mind has become an empty shell. All of the intelligence has been wiped. His eyes remain wide.
BB frowns and then glances to a clock sitting on the desk. "Less than a minute remaining. Guess I'll have to make this last part quick." He ambles over to the puddle still bubbling underneath the monitor screens and fishes out a Death Note. BB turns to the first page. "Nate River, death by erotic asphyxiation at 10:39 PM on January 26th, 2013."
Near lies lifeless, with his eyes forever staring into nothing.
BB adds a smilie face next to his brother's name. "Be happy that you died by my hand. I don't think anyone else would have given you such a generous death." He closes the notebook and returns to Near's cadaver. Running a few fingers down the dead man's face and throat, he feels the warmth beneath Near's skin. His cheeks still have some flush to them. BB's mouth twitches. "Did you know that in some cultures, people eat the flesh of their enemies to gain their power? You won't mind if I partake, will you? Besides, we can't put you to waste. You'll enjoy working for me."
No answer.
"I'm glad we've come to an understanding."
He scavenges the vicinity for a proper kitchen knife but can't find one. Sighing, BB returns to Near and unbuttons his white shirt to reveal his porcelain body. He follows his fingers with his tongue down the sternum until he reaches a soft spot of flesh in the middle of the abdomen. He bites deep, drawing blood and tears a sufficient amount off. The texture is gamey but juicy. With each squelching chew, his strength builds. BB swallows, letting a part of Near absorb into him, giving him the advantage he needs. Memories flow into his brain, narrowly causing it to burst. But BB holds together and accepts the whirlwind of images with open arms and an open mind. These memories will provide him information. They're his power source. Once the flurry of memories quell, BB releases a sigh of satisfaction.
"Now I'll have something to remember you by, my brother." BB wipes the blood from his mouth with the heel of his hand and laps up any remaining with his skillful tongue.
His appetite sated, BB indulges in the finer utilities of suburban life. He takes a hot shower. He washes the blood from his birth away and follows it with his eyes as it swirls down the drain leading to oblivion. Stepping out of the tub, he pats himself dry and dresses in the clothes he had collected from Near's drawers—a red zipped-up sweater, boxer briefs, and jeans.
Before he leaves, a couple of things catch his attention. BB collects the children's book from the floor and the half-eaten bar of chocolate. He takes a bite of the candy and runs through a sheaf of pages with his thumb.
Static.
"L…"
BB looks up at the monitors as one screen morphs to form a gothic W.
"L…we received some static on this line when we tried calling you earlier. What's your status?" the indistinguishable voice asks.
BB notices the wires from the monitors connect to a small speaker on the floor that has been partially hidden by bloody cards. He tosses the book away and lifts the speaker to his lips, sprawling himself out on the floor like a cat.
"This is L. Everything's under control."
23 DAYS REMAINING.