A little more awake this morning than the last, not only thanks to better recovery from being out of the hospital, but being in an elegant suite certainly helped. I recalled that there was going to be a continuation of yesterday's meeting due to the lack of members that were supposed to show up yesterday. Enjoying the incredibly fancy shower in the W Times, I thought about each person I met. The 13 year old Seth, the Dillon, and Krissy. This world is going to get one big kick in the pants. And I'll have to keep this a complete secret from everybody I knew. I mean- how was I supposed to tell my aunt? "Hey, Aunt Marissa, it's me, Makenna calling from the White House. And I just killed the president. By the way, I'm working for a criminal organization led by supernatural beings who want to take over the world." That sounded great. And what are we going to do about the United States government? Hack into their system and write down every police officer's name into the Death Note? Oh yes, very practical. I think I'll laugh if this whole thing even gets anywhere past introductions.

I stepped out of the glass-paned shower into the steamy bathroom. The white tiles were cold under my fleshy feet. The mirror was covered in hot water vapor. I wiped it away with my hand, revealing my reflection. I certainly don't look like somebody of power. Let alone, a silent killer. I'm a college student studying the arts. I used to have dreams of becoming an actress. Now I'm not so sure those dreams are reachable now. I erase my thoughts and continue preparing for the unpreparable.

"You know..."

I gasp; Emmett had been completely quiet up until now.

"It's more fun for me if I can hear what you're thinking. You shouldn't keep me wondering. I might start to annoy you on purpose."

"Sorry, I'm not used to sharing my thoughts. Besides, you might not like what you hear." I pull up my left ankle-high boot, and look at Emmett, who was perched up on the hotel television set.

"Sure I will. And besides, I don't get angry very easily."

"I was just wondering if this whole 'take over the world thing' will actually work. There's a reason America is considered the most powerful nation in the world."

"Wouldn't it be fun to see it fall?" He bursts out into a husky laugh.

I cough to myself. NOT REALLY.

The meeting was going to begin in about ninety minutes, so I figured I should get something to eat in the meantime. The lobby had food for the guests downstairs, but not like the normal hotels- this food was high class. You sat at a table in a grand dinner room and a waiter came to fulfill your orders. The good part is it was open all the time. Getting bored at midnight means I tend to read random things. Like the small booklet on my nightstand about everything the hotel offered. You might call it strange, I call it learning.

Making my way through the open lobby room and around to the dinner room, I couldn't help but notice the workout room to the left. A new addition, as I read. A pair of businessmen lifted weights together. The older one laughed. I wonder how his life will change once we start turning things around. Will his company fall, causing his house to foreclose or wife to leave him? Or will he work for us when we take over his company? The possibilities are endless. I wish everybody knew what we were going to do before it happens. At the same time, I wish nobody knew.

"Makenna, you were the one who told me people don't like it when you stare at them." Emmett poked the back of my head, and as I come to consciousness, I realize the two men in the workout room were looking at me strangely from behind the glass wall.

The older man in my thoughts raised an eyebrow at me and put his weights down. I mouthed "sorry" and scurried on down the pearly hall. As one of the six rulers of the new world, I'll probably be the most awkward. I can already tell I won't be very good at this. Time to put my future actress skills to the test, I suppose.

Receiving a tolerable 4 awkward glances from other people around me, I managed to snag a table for two in the grand dinner room, only to remember that Emmett was not going to sit down.

"I Keep forgetting only I can see you." I mumbled

"Yes, it makes you look ridiculous. I find it funny." Emmett was standing beside me as I sat down, not seeming particularly interested in anything.

"You're nice."

"Do you have the Gameboy?" Never mind; he was interested in something. Emmett was about to search through my purse when I grabbed it myself and pretended to search through it.

"You can't play that right now. We are in public. Didn't you just tell me I can't do things like that last night; because people will just see a floating object?"

"Well. There could always be exceptions."

"No there's not, Emmett. Go wander around or something. Make a friend or two." I realized my voice was getting a tad louder than a whisper when another voice interrupted my next thought.

"Who would ever want to be friends with you?" The rattly voice came from above. It was the Mafia Shinigami, glaring at Emmett with his golden teeth.

I looked around for Dillon, but he was already sitting at the open chair across from me. "Good morning. Mind if I join you?" He fiddled with his wristwatch as I set my purse down on the floor.

"I don't mind at all." trying to hide my smile. He seemed more attractive in a less invasive and stressful situation such as yesterday's attempted meeting.

"How old are you?" He leaned in.

Bit of an outward question to ask an acquaintance I would think. I answered anyway, "I'm nineteen, yourself?"

"Fascinating, I'm twenty-three."

Suddenly knowing he's older than me gives him a sense of sexual superiority. Twenty-three, that's awful young to be a professional killer. Perhaps it was a family business. I roll-tapped my fingers on the table. Emmett and the dead mafia, Jay, were watching Dillon and I talk. "What happened to you guys wandering around or making friends?"

"I kill all my friends." Jay retorted.

"I don't need friends." Emmett reached for my purse, probably going to grab his precious Gameboy.

"Oh by the way I never had the Gameboy in my purse you'll have to go up to the room to find it." somehow having Dillon there at my table made talking to Emmett seem less awkward for both myself and other people around me. Without another word, Emmett unfolded his wings and flew up through the ceiling. 19 stories up.

"He'll be looking for nothing right?"

"It's hard enough to let him follow me all day. I don't need him nagging me for things on top of that."

"A bit high maintenance is he?" Dillon flagged a waiter over to us.

"Like a toddler." I folded my hands on the table and rolled my eyes.

He smiled at me, and I back at him. For a killer... he was polite, I had to admit I was taken by surprise. The morning was pleasant, and the coffee cake was excellent. It was- anyway- until everything was cut short by a disruptive bit of company.

"OH YES, I'M COMING MY LORDS, SPEAKERS FOR THE GODS! I WILL JOIN YOU SHORTLY!" Out from the corner of my eye, off down the hall in the lobby a burly Jamaican man dashed for the elevator, behind him pulling a massive suitcase.

"Please tell me he's not with us..." The silver fork fell from my hand, landing the small saucer beside the remnants of my coffee cake.

"I wish I could say otherwise." Dillon left a few bills on the table and implied that breakfast was over and we had to attend our meeting.

I scoop up my purse and toss my curly hair off my left shoulder and scurry after Dillon toward the elevator.

"Hustle, it'll be the end of the world if we don't make it to this meeting on time."

"I thought it was going to be the end of the world if we attended this meeting."

"Touché, but either way we are going to attend this meeting. I didn't fly out from Boston for nothing." Dillon initiated the return for an elevator.

Silently, we step in, selecting floor 20. I let out a deep breath as we pass the third floor, "So how much money does a hit man like yourself make?"

Dillon raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms and turned to me, "I make as much money as I want. For obvious reasons, business has been exceptionally good lately."

I figured that he was completely taking advantage of his Death Note. Some person comes to him and says- I want 'so and so' killed slowly and painfully but leave no evidence. He gets the job done without laying a finger on the victim. I only wish I knew what to use my Death Note for, at the same time, I didn't want to use it at all.

"And how do you like Jay?" The Shinigami wasn't in the elevator with us at the moment, probably attending to business on the top floor already.

Dillon rolled his eyes and huffed, "The death note itself is my secret weapon. Jay is useless to me."

"You don't like having his company?" I, personally, setting aside his quirks, enjoy having Emmett to talk to in my solitude. He's always learning something knew. It makes me look smart.

"Uh. No. I don't take a liking to many people let alone Shinigami." Dillon straightened his tie at the neck and flipped his somewhat gorgeous head of golden hair as we passed the 15th floor.

"What about me? You didn't seem to mind my company at breakfast just now." A glint of curiosity flurried from my words.

"Well I have only just met you. I needed time to decide if I liked you or not."

Hmm, well the fact that he thought time was worth spending to decide if he liked me or not was flattering enough. I'm definitely feeling better about myself now than I did earlier.

Dillon and I step out of the elevator, greeting the familiar room with four others; the young boy, Krissy, the Jamaican man, and the fourth that I did not know.

"You're late." The fourth man had a stern face, maybe in his late forties?

"Put a sock in it. I'm using my vacation time for this. I would like to have some freedom." Dillon accused.

I whispered to him, "Hit men get vacation days?"

"Shh." Dillon avoided eye contact as he lied. I smiled to myself.

"Now, Miss Thatch, Mr. Slater, I am Cronin. This is Light." The old man tossed what appeared to be his death note across the room and into Dillon's possession. He then handed it to me.

A Shinigami about Emmett's height towered above Cronin. He was dressed in dirty pilot's clothing, unlike Emmett, this Shinigami was a fleshless skeleton.

"And I be Kojo Salazaar. May the takers of life feel merciful for you." Jamaican Kojo bows his head and walk over to Dillon and I. He shakes our hands, and bestows his death note to us.

Another girl Shinigami. And she was brilliant. No wonder he was brainwashed. She looked like a goddess. Silver gowns flowed out from her body, a cloth veil covering her nose and mouth. Gems glistened in her tattered white hair and on her skin. She was the most beautiful dead thing I have ever seen.

I look at Dillon who was less than interested in what she looked like. Whatever.

"Please, join us so we can begin this meeting." Cronin pulled two chairs from the dark oval table."Also, I'll have to ask for all the Shinigami to show themselves beside the possessor of their notebooks please."

Emmett and Jay came out of the floor and stood behind Dillon and myself.

"Now, let's address who we were chosen to be." Cronin tilts his head back proudly.

"Again, Cronin, I remind you that the humans you see sitting at this table, including yourself, were not chosen. They were randomly selected. We merely dropped our Death Notes onto Earth and the following people came into possession with them." The Shinigami, Light put Cronin in his place.

The way the Shinigami said his name. It was suspicious. I thought it was odd that Cronin didn't introduce himself as Mr. Cronin or as a full name. Perhaps Cronin isn't his real name. To check, I winked, using my Shinigami eye, and sure enough- his name wasn't Cronin at all. Mason Soto. What a liar. This eye deal is going to come in handy after all.

"So, in a sense, fate chose us." It was clear this Cronin wanted to be correct at all times. And anonymous. "My friends, we are here to begin something that will change the world. We cannot be foolish about this. And we cannot waste away opportunities that come our way."

I look around at everybody else at the meeting. Dillon seemed bored. Krissy was annoyed, Seth seemed less than interested. I think Kojo and Cronin were the only ones who seemed entertained. It all seemed fake. Were we really going to get anywhere with this? Sure the Death Note is a powerful tool, but its users have flaws. One wrong move and the whole operation could be ka-put. Then what? We just go back to our normal lives? Something tells me it's not that easy.

Cronin continued his lecture, "How does humanity survive? What is it that makes this complex clock tick? The answer, is money."

Krissy's eyes widened only a millimeter more, but enough for anybody to see that she was at least somewhat interested now. "What do we need money for?" Her attitude covered up her desire to know more.

"Good question. To overthrow this stale government we will need to stock up our expenses to show the world that we first have financial power. They might gain our trust- then we can show them what we can do. With enough money, anything is possible."

"And how do you expect to get this unfathomable amount of money? Don't expect donations from any of us." Dillon blurted out.

Yeah, really. Dillon had a point. I had just enough of money to finish my freshman year of college this May. I might have to start pulling out loans now.

"Glad to know I'm not in a room with total fools. You question everything. This is good. Let's begin with the Death Note." Cronin pauses to open his Death Note and read from the first page. I had read them too. They were the directions. It is kind of silly to think that a weapon of such power had to have directions.

"The human whose name is written in this note shall die. This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected. If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen." Cronin took a breath, "If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack. After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds."

The room was utterly silent. I know what the death note does. I think all of us do.

"Does anybody know who the wealthiest people in America are at the moment?"

We all looked around in curiosity.

"Let's start close to home. Our very own mayor, Michael Bloomberg, is worth 25 billion today, his age; 70. How about Walmart founder's son, Mr. Walton? At 21 billion, he too is over the hill at 68. Convenient, these numbers are, wouldn't you all say?" Cronin stood up from his chair and began pacing around the room slowly. "Any ideas? I know you all have brilliant minds…" He smiles eerily as he passes by each one of us.

Krissy, still interested, and clearly using all of her brain power to muster up an answer, says, "We could… kill them and take their money?"

Cronin stops, grins, and replies, "Very Good!"

"No, You idiots." Seth, the 7th grader yelps. "If you take their money it's theft. If you simply kill them, we don't have any way of keeping the cash flow coming in. We should use the Death Note to make them entrust to us the right to own their wealth, either the rights to the company or to own their estate- what have you- by forcing them to write us in their will before they die."

Attention turns to Cronin, who was now standing behind his own empty chair, clapping. "Brilliant, my boy. I couldn't have planned it better myself. In fact, I'll let you be in charge of our accounting situation since it was your idea."

Seth said nothing in reply. He simply acknowledged Cronin's appreciation for his intellect, and continued paying attention to the meeting. Krissy was glaring at the other end of the large oval table. None of the Shinigamis have said anything, let alone, looked at anybody in particular since the meeting began.

This really was just a game for them.