It was more than a week, wasn't it? -.-

Even after all the years of telling herself that she ought not build up hope in anyone, she found herself hoping that these two people would not judge her for being a criminal. She was hoping they would accept her alias as a name and that they would understand she had to steal to live. It was robbery or death, and she always felt there was a reason to live. Everyone had to live their life to find out what the meaning was, though it wouldn't always be evident on the journey. And so she cast her eyes up to meet sharp blue ones, all these thoughts whirring through her brain at the speed of light, and considered her chances. Always the one to be optimistic, she rated them as being high and smiled at the idea of something going her way.

"My name's Jet." Her voice was thick and melodic and it was the first time that Mello had taken any notice of it's soothing quality. It was one of those voices that could lull you to sleep but also sharply wake you up.

Knowing it was an alias, Mello took a moment to cast his mind back and try and remember if she had once been at Wammy's, but couldn't remember a Jet. Shaking his head, he considered his options, making a soft humming noise as Matt slowly picked up his DS and put it onto mute, still listening absentmindedly as he began to mash the buttons again. Mello sent him a half-hearted glare before returning his attention to his thoughts. Maybe a bit more interrogation couldn't hurt. Agreeing silently with himself, he let his eyes rest on the expectant younger girl who sat patiently against the wall, bringing her knees to her chest. It was, he mussed, almost exactly as L sat. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he addressed her with a monotone voice.

"Okay, Jet. Why were you running from the police?" He dismissed all of the subtleties and got straight to the point. Eyes widening, the auburn haired girl looked taken aback by the sudden question. But the hope was still there, in the back of her mind, so she answered with confidence.

"I was running from the police as I was caught stealing from a local corner shop." Short and sweet, she kept on telling herself, willing herself not to ramble. That would lessen her chances and she might spin a small lie that she wouldn't remember if she were asked again. Mello nodded acceptingly.

"Did you often steal?" Jet nodded curtly, the small smile still in place. Her past could not get her down if she were to ever move on.

"Yes, since I was 7 years old when I was abandoned by my foster parents."

That was a lie, of course. There had been no choice on the subject of her leaving. Dream Children had to be let go at 7 or things would get nasty, and so she had left, but she told that lie to everyone. She wasn't going to tell every person who asked about her whole history and the whole legend behind it. No, the only proof of her being the product of a legend was the forever dimming azure scar that was now reduced to a small crack-like line at her hairline, just above her right ear. So now everyone who asked was under the illusion that she was abandoned by her faithful and doting foster parents. Of course it felt like a betrayal to them and it belittled their endless care for her. They had always loved her and there was no lie behind that.

Mello scrutinized her slightly subdued smile as she finally dropped her gaze from his, staring into her lap as if she were hiding something. Deciding not to press on the matter, he thought more about his own problem. How would he execute this operation? You couldn't exactly be tactful when telling a young girl that you were going to put her in serious danger for the sake of a fully loaded gun. No, he would have to be his usual tactless self, because that was all he knew. A frown appeared on his scarred face as he mussed over this. He really had to develop his social skills, because they were at a crucial level currently. It wasn't doing him any favours, needless to say.

"I think I may have a job for you." He stated, not able to meet her suddenly curious gaze that had flickered up from her lap. She had no experience in dealing with females. He had heard they were far more emotional and emotional meant sensitive and fragile to Mello. He didn't want to break her, because that would be a sure inconvenience in his plans.

From the corner of his eyes, Mello saw Matt lift his head from his game slowly, and peer curiously at Jet as if he had never seen her before. Perhaps this really was out of character, trusting someone else with a job, the blonde considered. But Matt had every right to be curious. Mello hardly ever trusted him, and the redhead was his closest friend. He knew him better than anyone else, yet suddenly he went and picked up a criminal from the streets. He had let her wear his clothes and he was now even trusting her with a job, all in the space of 16 hours. Matt had been curious about the young girl. She looked rough around the edges, worn down, as if she had seen things that no normal teen had seen. She had been sleeping for so long, as if she hadn't slept decently for years. He remembered how amused he had felt as he watched Mello struggle not to look at her body as he changed her into the clothes. Yes, he had known this girl would have a purpose at some point. Mello would only be nice to others if it was in his best interests.

Jet stayed silent as the two boys seemed to muss over the events that had occurred before silently communicating with each other. It was taking all her might not to snap at them to hurry up and give her a job. It was not in character to be this bright and kind. She would normally be snarling and snapping and threatening, but these two men held potential. They could help her, give her purpose to keep on going. When she had heard that she may be getting a job, her heart had soared. It was like getting a present for the first time in years, and she couldn't help but hold onto all her hope that things would go her way. The long pauses were starting to feed on her optimism, though, and she felt her odds of being optimistic crumbling.

"Yes, I have a job. It's dangerous…" Mello began, seemingly hesitating again. He really didn't want to break her because then she'd be useless, but…

"Go on." She sighed, finally fed up of waiting. A blonde eyebrow quirked at her impatience, but complied, going on with his explanation.

"When out on my motorbike I became involved in a fistfight with a gang of thugs. In this fight I lost my gun, and I need it back. I would like you to go to the gang's meeting place and get my gun back. I know it's there." He was confident that they would find his gun there, but he wasn't keen to go back. He wasn't a fan of fistfights, even when he always won. The victory wasn't worth the pain.

The pale girl thought about it. What would be the harm in trying? Well, a lot of harm could be done, but to hell with it. She had to do something to have a reason to stay here. Already she was planning how to get the gun back…Thugs? Well, thugs meant whores and alcohol. She could get them drunk while acting as a whore, being seductive and the like. She would drink them under the table and then she would give them their fair share of punches while they were unconscious before retrieving the gun and getting the hell out. She smirked as the plan formed in her mind before looking up at Mello to accept.

"Yeah, sure." She said casually, eyes sparkling. Her imagination had no limits, but she hadn't had the chance to use it lately. "But I'm going to need some stuff first." Mello only raised his eyebrows but nodded, motioning for her to tell him what she needed. After sorting out the list in her head, she began.

-Line-

As Jet walked into the garage with a silent Matt, Mello couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and shake his head. Her idea wasn't complex, just…Well, you could say it was outside of the box. If he had had to retrieve his gun he would have got Matt to go into the hideout with him and beat the shit out of them all before grabbing it and running. But she had come up a plan with minimum violence and maximum creativity.

She was dressed in one of Mello's leather vests and had managed to clean up her short skirt enough that it complimented her figure rather than swamp it. Her hair had been cleaned in the sink and brushed and now it lay loose like flowing auburn water. She had cleaned her hands and face and used a knife to shave her legs, even though they were almost completely smooth, and she even went as far as to venture into the boxes in the garage and found charcoal that had been left by the apartment's last owners. She had outlined her eyes quickly but when no further, and now she was sauntering out with her 'whore-swagger' as she had jokingly put it, in her outfit and big black boots.

Jumping into the red corvette convertible, she let out an awed gasp. She hadn't ever been inside a car, and the interior of this one was simply gorgeous. Slowly, she ran her fingertips over the controls on the dashboard and stereo, fingering the fans and speakers curiously. Matt watched in slight amusement before stepping into the car via the door rather than her unprofessional bunny hop that had shown off slightly too much of her now-clean underwear. Well, he reasoned, she was trying to be a whore, so she had to be somewhat revealing. As they reversed out of the garage and set off towards the alleyways, Jet hid her nerves well by feigning more curiosity.

"You can put on the radio, if you like." He told her, seeing her eye the switches longingly. He knew she was nervous, but Mello was confident everything would turn out fine.

Slowly, she flicked the switch, and after a moment's loading music thundered from the speakers. Jumping back, she fiddled with the notched that had the word 'volume' printed above it. Slowly, the volume decreased and she leaned forward to catch every word of the song. Being a homeless child, you didn't hear much music other than the stuff that pours out of the musty bars she walked past. Well, Mello had said everything was going to be okay and she trusted his judgement, so she was going to do this for herself as well as him. Her thieving skills might finally be of use to someone other than her. But still, at the back of her mind, tiny alarm bells were tinkling and she couldn't help but bite her lip softly, not so sure of herself anymore. Everything could go wrong in the blink of an eye.

-Line

She stood, shifting from foot to foot, in the main room of the dull hideout. There were at least 7 burly looking men who were getting increasingly drunk. She was way out of her comfort zone, and she hadn't realised how horrible the life of a whore must be until they had started touching her and crooning suggestive comments. She wasn't sure that a gun was really worth losing her innocence over, but she was doing her best to be responsive in the right way with them. She couldn't blow her cover, even if having their grotty hands under her skirt made her squirm and want to throw up. The air around her was warm and the light tinted the whole room a strange dark yellow that was severely unflattering on their greasy, puckered skin. Just as she was beginning to settle into the background, the door swung open and someone who looked vaguely familiar sauntered in.

"Hello, ladies." He said, addressing the 7 men who were seated before him. He was obviously the leader of the gang. It was obvious by the way he oozed confidence, and she stared in awe at his immense height. It was like the room had somehow got smaller and he was filling it right up. If it hadn't felt cramped in the dingy space before, it did now. He didn't notice the small figure of Jet cowering back into the corner for a few moments but as soon as he did he eyed her up and down hungrily, his arousal already evident. Seemingly, he was going to be harder to handle than expected. "Who's this, then?" He crooned at her as if she was a child, and she very suddenly felt like one. It was difficult to keep from cowering away from him in plain sight, to shifting towards the door, but she stood her ground like she knew she had to.

"Some whore who was on the street. Thought she might be to your liking." One piped up before chugging back beer. The bulb flickered as the wind howled outside but it didn't go out, thankfully. The lighting was dulling, though, and Jet was praying she got out of the hideout before it gave out on her and plunged them all into darkness.

It all happened in a flash. The newcomer cornered her, towering above her, and had his hand in her pants, the other on her developing breast, something hard pressing into her stomach. She was tiny compared to him, but that didn't seem to bother him. As he sought out a small point that made her squirm, she elbowed him hard in the ribs and used his shock as an advantage, kicking him in the shins. A collective gasp ran around the room and anger flashed in the tall man's eyes. He probably wasn't used to that reaction, it seemed, from the flash of malevolent shock that danced in his eyes menacingly.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" He snarled, spit spraying onto her face disgustingly. His breath smelled heavily of tobacco and alcohol and it wasn't pleasant. She couldn't help but cringe away from the repulsive smell. She shot him a level glare and answer with a right hook that sent him reeling backwards onto the table, sending the beer bottles flying. The table shook under impact and for a moment it looked like it was going to collapse onto the gang of thugs' knees. Swiftly, Jet climbed on top of him and leaned down to mutter in his ear.

"My name's Jet. You might remember me." She had remembered as soon as he had started touching her who this man was. His arousal was pressing on her inner thigh and as soon as she felt it she punched him in the face, breaking his nose and drawing a pained yelp from him. He had certainly remembered now, and he hadn't been expecting that. A sadistic smirk played on her face as she leered over him, flicking the tender area with a bony finger, eliciting a whine that told of horrible pain. She knew she ought not to tease him but it was far too tempting.

Strong arms seized her pale wrists as she went for another punch, and she was pulled from the table by her hands, being suspended in mid-air. This wasn't ideal, needless to say. She tried to fight back, kicking out at her captor, but the kicks landed just short of his swamped body. Huffing and struggling all the while, he sauntered over to the wall where a pile of rusting chains sat, waiting. Jet couldn't help but find it amusing how he felt the need to keep his swagger in place, even in a crucial time like this. She had just assaulted his leader and he was still trying to impress him. Her amusement didn't last long, though, as another man bound her wrists with the chains and then hung her on the wall by a strong hook that had been drilled into the brick. The pain of the chain links digging into her wrists was near enough excruciating, but that was nothing compared to what came next. A hard punch connected with her stomach, winding her. But that wasn't the last of it. Another punch, and then another landed on her and they didn't seem to stop, hitting her hips, her ribs, her head, her arms, her legs…The list went on, and it took all of her willpower not to cry out in the sudden onslaught of pain.

Angered hisses and sadistic laughter echoed in her mind as it slowly stopped and she found herself gasping for air as her head was wrenched down to tie a rough cloth over her eyes, obstructing her vision. She found herself slipping in and out of consciousness, grasping at whatever she could to keep herself awake, but as her head became heavier and heavier, she found herself drifting off into a pained sleep, if you could even call it that. The last thing she heard was a loud call of: "Get the camera out and call the news." The speaker had gone on, but his gruff voice had just filtered out to nothingness as sleep got the better of her and took her under.

Light Yagami watched the news without interest, waiting for something that was worth his undivided attention to feature on the show. His Death Note was laid out in front of him, open to a clean page, a pen lying beside it, perfectly aligned. There had hardly been any criminals on the news lately, and it was boring him to no end. He wanted some action…Yes, Light wanted to kill and reign justice over the world. Of course, the world was cleansed to an extent now he had murdered as many criminals as he possible could, but it still wasn't over yet. There were plentiful amounts of humans that were not worthy of his New World, and he had to eliminate them.

Downstairs, he could hear his mum cooking dinner and humming tunelessly while Sayu listened to tacky pop music with techno beats, singing along with her high pitched voice. Hideki Ryuga was not all that good a singer, in his opinion, but he was still on every music station all the time. He couldn't help but think that had it not been for the vast majority of teenage girls falling head over heels with his looks, he wouldn't be so well known or popular. Pondering over this, Light was startled from his reverie as the screen of his TV quickly changed to a live tape.

"Okay, Kira, we got a sacrifice for you!" A slightly drunken voice slurred, the camera wavering slightly as it focused on a young girl, who was bleeding and blindfolded. "This girl, she's done some bad stuff, and we're gonna let her tell you everything you need to know to cast judgement on her….Or somethin'…" The man tailed off and the girl turned her head from side to side wildly, trying to see something or seek out comfort.

"My name is Jet Harrows." She said quietly, sniffing loudly before continuing, her voice thick from a heavy nosebleed. Her nose didn't look like it was broken, but she was certainly in fair amounts of pain. "I have committed theft a number of times for a living. I steal food as I am hungry and have no other source. I'm homeless, and I have been for several years. Now kill me." She snapped at the end, getting angry. Light sighed but didn't hesitate to scrawl down her name lazily.

'Jet Harrows, dies of heart attack while on live TV, having been held hostage, in 20 seconds.'

The world waited as she sucked in a deep breath and counted down her last seconds. As her air supply ran short, she breathed out and in quickly through her nose, and she felt her time slipping from between her fingers…

10

It was a horrible feeling, the suspense, not knowing when your life will end, cherishing each breath because you never know what one will be your last…She wanted someone to hold on to, to give her confidence… She had never wanted that before. She had never wanted to hold someone's hand. She had always been alone and she was fine with that. She could live.

9

She could hear the men shifting around, hear the soft buzz of the recording camera. She knew that the world wanted her to die, because they were impatient. The suspense was horrible for them too.

8

She tipped her head back, exposing the developing bruises on her jawline and neck, the black blossoms that spread over her collarbone and arms. She was still being suspended by the chains and she had long since lost the feeling in her wrists, though the blood still reached her hands. She could feel the warm liquid circulating through her cooling fingers.

7

She tried to bend her legs and fingers but her joints protested, aching and making her wince. This wasn't convenient, in the least. Her feet felt heavy, like lead weights that were trying to pull her legs down to the ground. She felt like her very being was defying the laws of gravity and it wasn't comfortable from any aspect. Not even a masochist could enjoy this.

6

The seconds seemed to pass far too slow. Each tick of the thug's watch was like a drum, echoing in her ears, taking hours for the sound to filter our and a few moments of silence before there was another bang. It was excruciating, the wait like an intensifying itch on the part of your back you couldn't reach without looking like a spaz.

5

She knew she was just trying to occupy her mind with anything and everything as the time fell away like sand. First it had been too slow and now it seemed to be passing much to fast, but unevenly. It was somehow even more annoying than the slug's pace from before.

4

Well, she'd had a good time, with Matt and Mello, right? The ride to the hideout had been hilarious, the loud music and laughing at Matt and his driving 'skills'. Sometimes the manoeuvres used made it evident that he was a gamer. She had never played a game or really appreciated music…Even the car itself had been magical.

3

She wished she had been given the chance to enjoy the motorbike ride, though. In fact, she just wished she had had more time with Mello. The blonde had seemed promising, the type of guy who would be interesting. But she tried not to regret not getting to know him. The time she had had with him was good, she supposed…

2

She could feel her last seconds disappearing like sand through her fingers. She tried to smile, but the nerves in her face were frozen. No! She wanted to smile before she died…It was only fair, and it was the kind of thing she had always promised herself to do. Of course, she hadn't expected to die this way, but that made no difference, not really.

1

Just as the last second came and went, she forced a smile onto her face and the whole world watched, frozen, as her designated time came around…

Aaaand, I leave you with a cliffhanger! I apologise for the late update and swear I'll do better next time. LARA IS A GOOD GIRL! Eheheh...Yeah, my name's Lara o: I didn't tell you that, huh? Well, it's 6:24 and I haven't went to sleep yet, I've got a lot of homework to do and a friend to meet at 3 in the afternoon...And I'm being squished by two annoying dogs who don't seem to like the idea of me being comfortable...So please excuse any mistakes! Oooh, the stress! Bah. I hate mornings.

Anyway, Light's made an appearance now, and we're coming up to awesome sauce! Be sure to read the next chapter, when I get around to posting it (: Reviews are welcome. Flames will be used to re-heat my foodies.
Much love and tata,
Lara! (AKA Trouble.)~X