Yeah, it's pretty short. Please excuse any mistakes, I did it as good as I could. Reasons for the EXTREMELY slow update later.
For now, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of it's characters. I only own my OC and this plot-line.

Another second passed…And then another. Jet swallowed back a deep breath of sticky, humid air and blinked, slowly. Did seconds normally take this long? Surely not. Her thin brows furrowed and her intense eyes swept over the jumbled room before her, the room that the camera could not see. It couldn't see the buckling table and the disordered chair. The public who this was being broadcasted to could only see part of the picture. They couldn't see the gang who loomed at her like vultures over prey; they couldn't see the bloodied nose of the man gripping the camera in sweating hands. And most importantly, the camera wasn't seeing her die. How could this be? The logical part of her mind calmly told her that Jet Harrows isn't your real name. How can someone who kills by knowing the names of the victim kill someone who doesn't even have a real name? It's impossible. A swell of joy and smugness rose up in her chest, and she had to push away the taunting smirk that threatened to form on her lips. She didn't need any more beating; she was already in a state as it was. But the irrational part of her begged her to keep on being afraid. There wasn't a way in hell that she would be spared for the crimes she had committed, no matter how small or of what significance. Since when had Kira been known to show mercy on any criminal who got their name and/or face shown? Simple and obvious answer being he didn't and showed no signs of mercy for wrongdoers. She wouldn't be an exception.

And so she continued to eye the camera curiously, the grin slipping onto her face when she let her guard down. Her eyes were filled with wariness and interest as she used her feet for leverage, pushing herself closer to the lens. Was the camera even working? Could the people of the world and the most feared judge possibly be seeing this if she wasn't limp, dead, by now? It just didn't make sense. If anything, she should at least be getting killed on impulse, if that was how Kira wished to kill her. Ignoring a pain that should have been blinding, she tried to lick the lens, her more mischievous side peeking out from behind the feared shadow left of herself. She wasn't very good with handling pain mixed with trauma, and she did the only thing she knew, and used the strongest, most carefree part of herself to stay strong and keep going. Straining her head forward, she did her darnedest to lick the lens with her tongue, or at least nudge it with her nose, but she was just too short. Pouting, she stayed with her face a few centimetres away from the camera, the blood coursing more heavily from the cuts on her scalp as she strained the skin with her pulling. If the world really could see this, they would see the lower half of her face, pale, with pink and black blossoming marks and blood streaking down her cheeks in rich reds. Anger getting the better of him, the leader of the little gang let go of the camera with one hand and slammed his fist down onto the crown of her head.

Choking and ripping the skin on her wrists apart even more, her upper body was pushed down forcefully by the hit that connected with her head, making it ring and pulsate, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. She didn't cry out, and she didn't let any of the tears pleading to be let out fall down her face. Crying would do nothing, if not only make her look ridiculous, so she winced and leaned back gingerly, trying to distribute more weight to her feet than her arms, jutting out her bottom lip defiantly and tilting her nose to the air. It was how she had been taught to do it before she left the Harrow's, and she could clearly remember being told keeping your head up would help you go far. She had to keep up her brash hilarity for the camera. If she was going to die, she was going to do it looking like she didn't give a fuck. Which in all honesty, she didn't, because what was she living for, anyway? That isn't to say she wanted to die, but she wasn't exactly opposed to it. Indifferent, for a better word. And so as her skin ripped and she bled out from her cuts that were within all the forming bruises, she grinned tauntingly at the man behind the camera. She wouldn't give in. Never. And she thought he better know that.

Being easily bored, her patience slowly ebbed and she began swinging herself forward using her feet for leverage, then back, all the while humming random notes under her shallow breath. She couldn't ignore this pain, the way the rusting chains grated on her tender and ripped skin, but she was doing her best not to react noticeably. The off tune notes were making a time bomb tick in the closest member's head, and soon his breath came in heaved snorts through his nose, annoyance colouring his face and eyes. Turning her dazed and aching head to him, she smiled brightly before letting her tongue peep out from between her cracking lips momentarily. It was enough to bring the brave thug storming forward, angry, but sorting his priorities. Make sure the camera's working before beating the crap out of the small girl who dared taunt him while hanging on the fucking wall. What she was doing now was being plain stupid.

The public were suddenly confronted with a more disgusting sight than the beaten girl who had swung about before them previously. They saw a dirt stained nose and watering, beady brown eyes. Tawny hair fell in greasy locks over a pock-marked sweating forehead and full lips that were chapped and bruised from forceful kisses were bitten into by yellowing teeth. The hot breath made the lens of the camera steam up and he scrutinized it before pulling his dirtied sleeve over her hand and wiping it, prodding it experimentally and seeing no reaction that would be deemed odd. He took a step back and frowned, staring evenly at the lens then letting his eyes flicker around the room before him.

"It's working." Jet muttered blandly, raising her eyebrows at the dumb man leering at the camera before her, making her press back against the wall again so he wasn't butting her in the stomach. It was painful and uncomfortable and the sooner he moved the better. He grunted in dismissal, and the girl should have left it at that and let him continue with his pondering, but the pain was buzzing in her head and that was all she could think about without a distraction. So in her pain she was brash and in the split moment of reckless abandon, she yelled at him. "Hey, it's fucking working!" She snapped, cringing as his body suddenly stiffened.

The people of the Kanto region watched as his eyes widened a fraction before narrowing to slits, and their ears could just pick out the sound of a sharp intake of breath. It happened too fast for anyone to react, and millions watched as the man straightened out, spun on his heel and smashed the bottle down on her head. She screamed as the glass cut into her scalp and alcohol that had went unfinished poured mercilessly into the cuts, each laceration burning with an unimaginable intensity. It was all she could do not to go into hysteria, and she only managed to avoid that narrowly. Many turned away as he began to yell at her as she sobbed loudly, screaming, as her hair was ripped out by oily, disgusting fists, fistful after fistful of her silky locks being thrown onto the floor as cheers erupted around the room about him. As he grabbed anther fistful, he suddenly froze and choked slightly. His breath hitched in his throat and he couldn't breathe at all. Jet watched him struggle for air without a hint of pity, watching with bitter glee as he fell to the ground, his heart stopping after the violent heart attack.

As her head dropped down so her eyes could follow him as he died, her scalp bleeding all the while, a collective gasp rippled through crowds all over Japan. Her head was in ruined, her scalp marred in trench-like bloody wounds, inflamed patches of skin where only small amounts of hair had been pulled out. Hair fell like rain down onto the ground after the dead man, following him in a soft, glowing rain, and her fading azure scar shone like a map over her inflamed scalp. Silence claimed the room as every living being's eyes turned to the dead man on the floor. No-one could answer what had happened, how he had so suddenly died. Quite frankly, the hanging girl didn't care, but it was apparent the rest of them did. As one of his closest friends went to shake him, a huge bang rattled the room violently. The Dream Child's tear-reddened eyes snapped up and stared at the redhead outlined in the door, gun in hand. Behind him, a blonde in leather approached, and a complete shambles ensued.

Gang members scrambled to find weapons but it was too late. Mello had reached the door and was standing there, anger burning so brightly in his sharp eyes that even from the 10metres or so Jet was from him, she could pick it out. "DROP WHAT YOU ARE HOLDING!" He roared, making the teenage girl's head pulse violently. They didn't take another telling, even the leader dropping the camera with a sickening crack to the ground. Matt stood there, eyes ablaze under his goggles, as he took aim and fired bullets through flesh and bone, killing the members rapid fire. It was no surprise that the redhead was so good with his aim after all the computer games he seemed to play, but 5 straight headshots was a feat for anyone. Of course, everyone makes mistakes, and one misfired, aiming for the leader who stood just off from in front of the helpless girl. The bullet embedded itself in her arm and she screamed, unable to hold it back. A sadistic chortle echoed around the room as the man who had once held the camera watched in glee, taking Mello and Matt's momentary distraction as a chance to run.

Bullets were fired down the street after him and Matt gave chase, but Mello stayed behind to get the young girl down from the wall and make sure she would survive getting back to base. He cussed angrily as he worked the chains off her wrists, over her hands, and saw the raw state of them and at the bloody hole from the bullet in her right arm. It wasn't even like he or Matt were experts in first aid, nor did they have the facilities to tend to her. It was looking like her arm would be left immobile with a bulled embedded in the bicep if they couldn't extract it. But now was no time to think of this, and he quickly lowered her to the ground, finding she could just about put weight on her left foot, though not her right. Each movement she made seemed to cause her strain and the blonde couldn't help but cringe as the nearly bald, wounded girl who seemed like just a child, hobble away before him.

He cast an eye about and spotted a rickety shelf in the corner. Without further ado he went to check for his gun, and as expected, found it on the top shelf. Yanking it down and blowing off a thin layer of dust, he smiled brightly at his pride and joy, stuffing it back in his pocket. He couldn't help be feel slightly smug as he turned to walk back out to accompany Matt back to base. But he'd forgotten about the small figure who stumbled away slowly. She hopped and limped away, seeming to have broken an ankle, and finally made it to the door. She saw the goggled man walk towards her quickly as her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp, falling forward into the dark, muddy sleep, face planting the hard tarmac. She didn't even feel the blood spill out onto her face as she blacked out.

Okaaay! Enjoy? Hopefully!
Right, down to business. As you probably guessed, I'm still pretty young and therefore taking a lot of tests in school, especially this time of year as it's coming up to the hellish holiday-mucked-up-bit! So I've been hella busy, but whenever I've got the chance I've been adding oneshots onto my profile, so if I'm taking ages to update, take a peek on there and you might find something to entertain you (: To warn you, it's all boyxboy (I almost said bobxboy. xD!). I've had crappy writers block for this story so the updates will come a LOT slower than one a week, but I'll do my best to put up a variety of one-shots in the meantime. I'll do my best to type the next chapter up soon as I have a pretty good idea what I'm going to do for it, but patience well and truly is a virtue.
Reviews and criticism are welcome, anything you might want to see happen, any requests for those mini oneshots I do, pop 'em in a review and I'll do my best! Reviewers get cookies (Even flamers) Though any abusive or stupid reviews will get living hell back. Oh, an maybe a burnt cookie. S'their own fault for flaming the fucking cookie!
Right, must dash, got homework to do and it's midnight.
Tata~ x