A/N: Holy bologna! I'm, like, so totally excited for this chapter! This is so splendiforous! Aren't you as excited as I am?!

In other news, I'm just out of the hospital. I had an appendectomy- which basically means I got my appendix taken out. Ergo, I'm now on Percocet. I've been sleeping and lucid dreaming for the past 3-4 days. I don't know how long, it's been a blur.

Disclaimer: I'd like to say that I own Death Note, but the economy is failing and I cannot afford the subsequent lawsuits that might or might not follow.

If he had been a cruel man, which Beyond most certainly was not, he would have allowed the pale creature in his captivity to soak in his bodily odors and bowels. Though, as it were, he was a kind and thoughtful man- a bath-time was in order.

He had a new game plan in mind: sleep deprivation was at hand; in order to allow his prey the chance to wallow in a forgotten sanity. The human psyche can only last for so long before it sees what is not present and follows what it not the greatest in logic.

It was a pertinent measure in his plan if he were to bring the detective down off of his pedestal. The idea was to make Lawliet feel. Feel the morbid, macabre-like agony that he had suffered. What A had suffered. They had to suffer for him, and now he must suffer for himself.

Of course B would be a liar if he were to say that he wasn't interested in the faces that marred that pretty little face. A little part of him was aroused by every twitch and grimace that this oh-so fascinating creature made.

While he unwound the bloodied wire (picking off some of the peeled skin as he did so) he made a point to ignore the blatant and questioning stare that he was receiving. It pestered him every time those god-damn eyes would stare into his with unabashed emotion.

This thing was not supposed to feel. Ever.

That's what he had been taught—never, for as long as you are conscious of it, feel. It was against the rules to have emotions. Emotions lead to biases; biases lead to disaster.

He grabbed the mottled arms of the bony man and began to drag the figure down and out of his old resting place. Again, he made a point to ignore the quiet, indistinct mewls of pain that the beautiful figure made.

But he did, however, notice the signature that he had made upon the ivory skin. As it were, the scabbing had peeled off and it was again bleeding. It was troubling him, even, the way it hadn't stopped. Ah, well, that was a matter for later.

Luckily for him, the abandoned station in which he had made for his hideout had rather large bathrooms. In which, he had been able to utilize basic water pipes and the likes to create a makeshift bathtub.

"Beyond, wha.." With a sharp kick to the back of the head, Beyond silenced the troublesome, questioning detective. Honestly, that boy did not know how to shut his mouth.

With little effort, he gave the detective a careless toss into his ghetto little tub. Though, it wasn't to say that he was not proud of his creation; it was most certainly one of the bigger projects he'd ever worked on in his entire life.

So it took a lot of constraint on his part not to gouge those appraising gray eyes when the thing gave his tub a once-over.

Of course, he was too afraid to say a word, to which B felt a smidgen of pride at. All the detective did was bring a hand up to rub at his shoulders. Beyond reckoned that it was painful.

But then again, he could care less.

Rummaging through his deep pockets, he retrieved half of a bar of soap. With a strut so silent that it wouldn't awaken a guard dog, he went to Lawliet's side and began to scrub at the man's skin. He almost laughed at the shock and fear that crossed the detective's face.

"Calm it down a notch, Lawli. I'm just giving you a bath. I don't want you to smell like a pile of feces and stale urine, now. Not even I can tolerate it for too long."

"You're too kind, Beyond." Ah, there it was. That ugly sarcasm the thing was infamous for. It was amusing that, even in his current disposition, he could use it. Then again, Beyond didn't have respect for this man for no reason..

He made a fist, sticking out his middle finger about halfway, and deftly hit the man's right temple. After the subsequent yelp that followed, he gave a dark chuckle. "I don't like your sarcasm, Lawli. Be kind, before I drown you, dearie."

"But that's against the rules, B." This man, who at the moment resembled a drowned rat or dog, still believed that he, Beyond Birthday, was one to play by the rules?

His naïveté was going to be the death of him.

Though he said nothing, choosing instead to grate at the remainder of the skin on the detective's arms, reveling in the paroxysm of pain that erupted onto that face. He leaned over to do the same to the other arm, when he suddenly felt a weight on his back, and a wetness on his face.

It became perspicuous that he was submerged in the mired water that the detective's bodice had once been occupying. What was also blatant was that his captive was no long presiding inside of the bathtub. Which meant one thing:

Lawliet was escaping.

With an enraged snarl, B reeled out of the tub. Wild eyes that shone brilliant red scanned the floor to find the puddles that had once been the man's footprints. Oh, what an irrational, damaging decision this was going to be.

Running at a speed that he hadn't though possible to him, he hunted the man down. Soon enough, he saw the pale, stark naked form of his prey. For all his luck, the detective had managed to find a plausible escape route. Too bad for him, though, was that he had yet to look back and see that B was already closing in on him.

And, when he finally dared to, he was slammed into a wall at breakneck speed. Beyond cackled at the choked sob that erupted from the detective. Though, it was not enough.

"You fool! Did you verily believe that you'd be able to escape me with such a half-assed plan? There is no way you'll ever escape me, Lawliet." Seething was a fit word to describe the rage. He looked down at the consternation that graced his look-a-like's features.

"You'll never, ever, ever escape me on your own. Never! Do you hear me?!" He pulled out his blade with the speed and skill of a trained warrior, and pulled at L's hair. Quickly enough to keep the man disoriented, he brought the detective to his knees, before throwing him down stomach-first.

"I'm going to make you scream, Lawliet. Due to your treason, you're going to wish you were never born. I tried to be nice, L." He brought the blade down and quickly did away with each of the boy's Achilles' tendons.

It was then that he heard fearful, inane screams and cries. Only then did he hear the pitiful, mindless sobs.

He knew that he had just begun to break the man. Now that L was dependent only upon others, he was afraid. Fear was something the sheltered man had never known. He had done it.

He had made L Lawliet cry.

Three days.

Three days.

Three-god damn-days had passed.

Light was, to say the least, a little bit upset. Three whole days had passed and all he had managed to do was whisper sweet nothings to a distraught detective. He was beginning to feel as useless as he looked.

Of course, none of the task force dare to speak their thoughts. It was as if they knew that they would die a slow, agonizing death if they dared to utter a negative comment in Light Yagami's direction.

Which would be true. Kira or not, the livid teenager was murderous.

So it wasn't much of a surprise when that old fucking bastard waltzed into Light's investigation room and declared that he was bringing in backup.

Oh really, Light had thought. What a unpleasant, unneeded distraction. Some more punks to waste space and irritate the irked teenager. That's exactly what he needed.

But, of course, he did not voice his thoughts. Instead, he put on a rather charming smile and thanked Watari for his caring thoughtfulness and the likes. Of course, none of this would be pertinent if the old bastard had done his job and babysat that nuisance.

So, there he was, twelve painful hours later. His situation, and subsequently his mood, had dampened as three tiny figures emerged into the room.

Of course, he had stared. And gawked. To be exact, a little piece of his pride had withered away and died a painful, burning death at the sight of his "help."

How old were these kids, twelve?!

The first, and most prominent one was the blond who looked a lot more like Two-Face from all of those Batman comics he used to read. Light presumed that this he-she was more of a he, counting on the lack of breasts as evidence. Also, he was hording chocolate bars everywhere. Light was certain that his boy shared the nuisance's affinity for sweets and gluttony.

The next one that stood out to him looked more like a giant snowman—pallid, ivory skin, white-washed hair (which tripped Light up significantly), white pajamas, and coal-like eyes. Stick in a carrot and you had Frosty, the innermost portion of Light's brain jeered. He had dubbed that part of his brain the part that had been afflicted by Misa.

Lastly, there was a redhead. Who, nonetheless, was smoking. Again, how old was he? And Light couldn't help but notice the orange goggles, and horde of video games he stored within his grasp. Though, if any were the most approachable, Light was certain that it was this one. He wafter off an aura of.. normalcy.

"These," the elderly man (whom, Light coughed, had gone long-forgotten) began to speak, "are acquaintances of L. Heed no prejudice to their age, for they are highly capable in their fields. If they weren't, then I would not have brought them to us.

"Introduce yourselves, boys." He turned to each and gave them a rather stern look. The blond one scoffed and crossed his arms over his leather-clad chest. With a flick of his hair, and gave each male a cold, appraising glare.

"Name's Mello. Don't fuck with me, because I have no qualms in blasting a hole in each of your pitiful, worthless brains." He made sure each male knew he was serious by pulling out his Glock and twirling it with his index finger.

The next one to speak up was the redhead, who coughed slightly and gave a passive chuckle. "Don't mind him, he's a tiny bit cranky. You know, jet lag and all. I'm Matt, and I major in technology. I've already hacked into your database and it's obvious how little we've missed. Again, don't fret, I'm guessing that's why we're here to help out. Nice to meet you's all." He gave a small wave and a broad grin, and Light couldn't help but think of how big a nerd this kid was.

Every gaze honed in on the final guest, who had yet to speak. The boy stood, twirling his hair and just staring at Light. Which, in turn, freaked the teen out. Never had he thought that a human being would have a more creepy gaze than L's.

Of course, he had just been dis-proven.

The blond one, Mello, made a rather disgusting noise. "Speak up, you fucking idiot."

Finally, Near looked away, and gave Mello a rather uncaring look. "You don't need to throw such petty phrases at me, Mello. That's why you're Number Two." Again, he didn't look caring as the blond began to prepare himself to pistol-whip the boy, instead turning to the force. "My name is Near. That is all."

Light stood up, and began to introduce himself. As he did so, he noted how the force began to become more animated. Each smiled, stood up and made introductions (Light was almost to tear with laughter when Mello made Matsuda screech like a parrot). When each was finished, and the animosity died down, Light's phone began to go off.

All of a sudden, Matt connected a cable to the phone, and nodded to Light that it was okay to answer. Each child's face was dead from emotion, like tiny, fun-sized robots.

So Light answered the phone.

It had been forever since L had felt this exposed. This situation was becoming more and more unreal and imaginary that L was beginning to hope that someone had, by chance, drugged his morning tea.

He knew he had finally lost it that moment he had been stripped of his ability to walk. A tiny part of his dignity had left him, he was lost. All that was important to him was that he did not die. His despondency was beginning to take control of him.

Since then, he had been unable to stop the tears from flowing. Warm, salty rivulets trailed down his flushed cheeks in streams, dehydrating him to the core. But B had disappeared hours ago, and so there was no one there to bear witness to his state of despair.

Though, he could now hear it, murmuring and the mad, maniacal laughter that was Beyond's. It was his trademark, really. But, it also meant that he was speaking to another human being—he was conversing with Light.

Raw emotion built up in L's chest. He needed to talk to someone, anyone; Kira would even suffice, as long as he could just get it off of his chest. He was afraid.

Too weak, L noted, as he failed to lift his head up. That was, until he felt scalding heat on his hip, right over his wound. With an animalistic howl, his entire body collapsed within itself and his legs jerked up and gave an involuntary kick to the man cauterizing his wounds.

"S, St, Stop it!" There it was, that fucking sobbing, childish whine that had become his voice. He was a joke. It didn't help when he began to whimper at the cackle the man had made.

"Temper, temper!"

It was then that his eyes when blind and he let out a screech of the utmost embarrassing anguish. Something hot, searing, and burning had forcefully penetrated his anal cavity. Then it was blatant that the cauterization rod had been forced inside of him. Agony to the nth degree coursed through his veins. He began to plead with his mind to numb him, do anything to help him.

A frantic pulse was in his ears, and he could not make out the sounds around him. He could, though, hear the frantic, indistinct shouts from Light over the phone, accompanied by the ever-present laughter from Beyond.

Such circumstances, as it were, caused distraught laughter to come from L himself. Listless, insane chuckles, blending with the sobs that choked gasps that he also emitted, sounded through the room. The chained man's body jerked about with not a reason.

The laughter died down, and all L could do was stare at the ceiling. Everything seemed to have paused, even the inane laughter of Beyond Birthday. It was almost as if the world were waiting for him to speak.

"I'm losing the game."

A/N: What a cheesy, shitty ending. I didn't know how to end it, though! DON'T KILL ME! Originally, though, it was going to be "I want to die." But, sadly, L isn't that weak. No, no, no.

Let me clear things up for you: L is desperate. Before, he didn't mind as much because, if worse came to worse, he could escape on foot. But, B took away his ability to rightly run, so now he is almost forced to rely on Light and the team. Of course, L does not fully trust them all. Who would when your entire existence is put on the line with those dudes? That's why he's wigging out.

Blah, I dislike this chapter. Shoot me.

Tell me what you think, i.e, review.