notes/warnings
+ ttl status: still not abandoned
+ happy valentines day! (i put my favourite scttl ship somewhere in this chapter)
+ this isn't very good i'm sorry it so wasn't worth the wait
Outage
[Fivenine] – wow babe that was awesome I am so impressed.
[Fivenine] – but why did you get some other dude to talk to me? Don't you like talking to me yourself?
[Goldilocks] – no.
[Goldilocks] – because you call me things like 'babe'.
[Goldilocks] – besides, I've got a new favourite now, and she's much more useful than you. You'd better shape up.
[Fivenine] – aw crap.
[Fivenine] – but my broken heart aside, what do you want with the original Kira?
[Goldilocks] – what kind of a question is that?
"It's probably just a joke," Matsuda says, his face so pale it seems grey. "Hardly anyone knows what you really look like, right? I mean, lots of people have seen your face but hardly anyone knows who you are and what you look like"
"We can't afford to not take this seriously, even if it is a bluff," Naomi says. "This 'Lady' character is the leader of that cult that's been making the news. She probably has connections."
"If she really is able to release pictures on hundreds of websites at once, then she must have the services of at least one decent hacker," Aiber theorises. "Possibly more. The question is, can we fight her digitally? If we can hack her hacker, we shouldn't need to worry about her threats."
"At the minute, we don't have any hackers on our side," Wedy reminds him coldly. "And we can hardly go to the police for help."
"The one called Hangman has previously expressed support for L," Naomi says. "We can ask for their assistance, but I don't think we can count on it."
L tries to drown out their chatter with his own thoughts. Who exactly knows what he looks like? Light. Misa. A handful of police officers, Matsuda's old colleagues. Light's father. Possibly Light's mother and sister. Rae and Rem, neither of whom would do something like this. Some of Watari's orphans. Who else? Who else has been a part of his team, in the first or second worlds?
How old is Grace Backstrum supposed to be now?
No. Surely not. But then the perpetrator doesn't actually need to know his face. For the threat to be sufficient, they only need to be reasonably sure that there are people in the world who do know what his face looks like. After all, L cannot afford to take the risk.
"Naomi," he says, steepling his fingers under his chin. "Please get me all the information you can on the Lady and her cult."
Naomi nods firmly, plucks Connor from the floor, and leaves the room. L turns to the others.
"Aiber, please try to make contact with Hangman as Naomi suggested," he continues. "Wedy, please scour the internet and see if you can identify her hacker, or at least rule out the Big Four. And Matsuda…"
L trails off, drawing a blank.
"I can help," Matsuda says, emphatically. He looks like he might burst into tears at any second.
L reaches out, taking a sliver of Matsuda's sleeve between his index and middle fingers.
"Please keep me company," he says, selfishly. "Help me draw up a list of suspects."
"Okay!" Matsuda replies.
Misa examines herself in the mirror. Her eyeliner isn't quite even. The entire building is full of people who profess to love her, and she can't even apply her eyeliner correctly. No wonder Light wanted to date Miss Newsreader Sophisticated Probably Perfectly Symmetrical Makeup Takada instead.
Misa knocks her head against the reflective surface. Since she got out of hell – no, since the day she died – she has been plagued with a crippling feeling of dread. She didn't just fail, she was wrong. Not only did she not make the world better, but she was terrible at being a girlfriend. Light had no time for her, even in the end. Even here in the third world he hasn't come to find her. She's nothing but a stupid little empty-headed model, and everyone has been laughing at her this whole time.
She wants to go home.
She doesn't have a home.
"You look perfect, my Lady," Lee says, quietly. Misa had almost forgotten that she was in the room. Misa likes Lee. If Light is the personification of a horse that shouldn't have been backed, then Lee is the personification of a favourite old blanket.
"No," Misa argues, turning her head back and forth, trying to demonstrate the truth in her words. "The angle isn't right."
"Humans are not meant to be mathematically accurate," Lee says. "That doesn't stop you from being perfect."
"You say some weird things," Misa tells her, disparagingly. Then she crosses the room and rummages around in her dresser, mentally removing another task from her endless 'to do' list.
To do: find Light, purpose in life.
"Here," she says after a moment, handing her procured object to Lee. She's started thinking of Lee and Moore as her lieutenants, as if she's a military leader. Sometimes pretending to be someone important makes Misa feel better.
"A 93 Rutetut machine pistol?" Lee murmurs, turning the gun over in her hands. "Oh a model B. This is a rare gun."
"Use it to protect me," Misa tells her. "I trust you, so you're my bodyguard now, okay? You have to protect me from harm."
"Okay," Lee replies.
"One thing is absolutely certain," L says, tipping his head to the side. "We have no reason to believe that Light is in this world –"
"Light is definitely not in this world," Wedy interrupts, with surprising force.
" – so we cannot meet this woman's terms," L continues, somewhat comforted by his colleague's certainty. "We need to either stop her, or find something else with which to bargain."
"My best guess is that there are about a hundred people in this cult," Naomi informs him. "That's extrapolated from social media that mentions her. A place called Merlin's Café recruits for her, and as far as I can tell you only have to demonstrate affection for the woman. The whole thing seems to be fairly pedestrian and low-security. I'm honestly surprised she's tried something like this."
"Not so pedestrian," Aiber says gruffly. "Apparently she's got the real Fivenine on side, according to Hangman."
"And will Hangman help us?" L asks, quietly.
"They're not sure," Aiber answers. "There's some sort of political thing going on in the United States. Hangman says it's more important, and that they'll only help if they have time."
L smirks humourlessly to himself. This world is already so full of famous and infamous people that he isn't even a priority any more. His identity could be compromised and only his enemies would care, the rest of the world would continue as normal.
"Plus, Fivenine almost always has the support of Volution," Aiber continues. "And Hangman can't take on Volution on their own."
L scrubs a hand over his face.
"So, we are unable to stop this woman unless we acquire the assistance of a team very good hackers."
"I'm not sure we want to do that," Naomi cautions him. "Unless we know about their motivations, a randomly selected hacker is just as likely to turn on you you as they are to help you. And most hackers are very reluctant to go up against the Big Four."
"I can ask Hangman for their recommendations," Aiber says. "I'm not sure they really believe that I work for L, but they might be willing to recommend some people who are sympathetic to our cause."
"Yes, do that," L says. This is infuriating. There must be some way to win. There is always a way to win.
"I think we should infiltrate this cult," Naomi tells him. "Maybe we can figure out a way to stop or bribe this woman. It doesn't seem too difficult, either."
"I'll go!" Matsuda says brightly, raising his hand in the air like a young child. "I've never joined a cult before!"
"It's not a party, kiddo," Aiber warns him. "This Lady person is a serious threat."
L rubs his knuckle against his lip. Their strategy, although weak, is two-pronged. Someone joins the cult to harvest more information, and the rest of them attempt to dredge up an army of hackers. L misses Rae. He misses Mail. He misses the days when his team was all in the one place at the one time, although he's not entirely sure such days ever existed.
Right then. Whoever goes undercover needs to have good people skills – ruling out Wedy – and the ability to make sound decisions in a split second – ruling out Matsuda, as much as he'd probably love to go – and probably shouldn't be L, either.
Which leaves Naomi and Aiber. They're each as charming as each other, although Aiber more flamboyantly so, and Naomi probably has the preferable skill set for the task at hand. However, Naomi died on her last undercover mission. L tries to construct a plausible reason to send Aiber instead. And then he hesitates, wondering if he's letting his emotions get in the way of his work for a second time.
"I'd really like to go, L," Naomi says, soberly. "I failed miserably with Takada, and I want a chance to prove that I can succeed."
"Fine with me," Aiber says, shrugging. "You're probably more the right demographic, anyway. Most of the cult's known members are adorable women, rather than devastatingly handsome men."
"I'm not sure there is enough space in here for all of us and Aiber's ego," Wedy drawls.
They're making jokes. This isn't particularly disconcerting to anyone else. L runs the facts through his head, calculating percentages, trying to remove himself from the situation.
"Is it okay with you, L?" Naomi asks, directly.
She's the best possible choice, and that's that.
"Yes," L replies, and just like that it is decided.
Light groans and brushes the cat from his face. The room is too dark. The hundreds of usually-flickering screens are blank and still, and he feels surreal, as if he's still asleep. He stumbles to the fuse box, and examines it, cursing softly.
Light's genius is as it ever was, and it takes him an infinitesimally small amount of time to establish that the problem is not internal. The power has been cut off externally, perhaps to his house, perhaps to the entire neighbourhood, perhaps to the whole of London. The scale of the problem is largely irrelevant, because there's nothing he can do about it either way.
Light's luck is not as it ever was. It was finite; it has been used up.
Falling in love means that you've run out of luck.
He retrieves the remaining blankets from the cupboard, wrinkling his nose at the dust. No power means no heat, and the nights have been especially chilly lately.
"Mrowr," Shadow says unhelpfully, and cleans her left paw.
Light dumps a blanket over her and goes back to bed.
Naomi is outfitted much the same way as she was for her undercover mission in the second world. L's team no longer has the services of a genius inventor, but they do have an expert thief who can steal from other genius inventors. Naomi pins her blonde wig into place, and examines her ear in the mirror. The audio tap is almost completely invisible. It should not draw suspicion to her.
"If the taps threaten your safety, please discard them," L tells her quietly. "Your welfare is paramount."
"We live, and we get the job done," Naomi tells him, reassuringly. Then she pauses for a moment to examine her ring, by far the most impressive item of Wedy's haul.
When she infiltrated Takada's headquarters, she had an anaesthetic ring. But this, this, is a gun ring. Fitted with a tiny, concealed chamber and even tinier bullets. It's a special Caddington model, never named, only referred to by the serial number of 79XB. Only ten were ever produced. Essentially, Naomi has dreamed of wearing jewellery like this ever since she was a child.
Not that she can talk to any of her colleagues about guns, of course. Her interests, as always, only exist inside her head.
"I regret that I have no Shinigami to accompany you," L adds.
"I don't regret it," Naomi tells him, frankly. "I'm glad that thing is gone. Dead, you said, right?"
"I believe so," L agrees, sounding almost perfectly normal. "But it is hard to predict supernatural things."
If it were easy to predict supernatural things, they might all still be in the first world. And Naomi would probably be a stay-at-home mother. She'd have a child or two in school by now, and she'd have dinner on the table every night when Raye got home from saving people.
Naomi closes her fist over the Caddington. On the exterior it simply looks like a gaudy silver ring. She should fit in perfectly with the other women in the cult. Naomi can fit in perfectly nearly anywhere; it's not fair that she doesn't have any proper friends. L is her friend, but he's not exactly going to go and see a movie with her. And Matsuda is her friend, but she's not exactly going to go and see a movie with him.
"Does Connor understand?" L asks, suddenly. "Or will he be distressed by your absence?"
Naomi shakes her head.
"He knows as much as he can understand right now," she explains. "He knows I'm away working. He knows he can trust all of you. And he knows Matsuda will be his primary caretaker while I'm gone."
She doesn't lie to her son. If she could explain to him her chances of survival in terms he would understand, she'd do that, too. It's not as if dying is a permanent thing, after all. Connor knows that she'll always find him again. He knows that he doesn't need to be afraid.
"I will assist Matsuda," L tells her. "And of course I will be paying attention to your feed."
There are no death notes in the third world. She's not in danger the way she was last time.
"Everything will be fine," Naomi tells him, and heads towards the door. L's anxiety is making her nervous, and Matsuda can never remember the dinosaurs' names. She wants Raye to come back and help her. She doesn't want Raye to come back.
Nothing is ever simple, is it?
L reaches out, suddenly, unexpectedly, and grabs her wrist between his two fingers.
"Naomi," he says, very softly. "I am only ninety-eight percent certain."
Naomi manages a smile for him, anyway. This is still her dream job, after all. Her dream job and her dream gun. She's fretting over nothing.
"Ninety-eight is pretty good," she says. "This mission is a simple one, so I think it will be okay."
"Not the mission," L tells her. "I am only ninety-eight percent certain that he is not here."
Naomi hesitates. L looks up at her with wide, childlike eyes. He's afraid of the same monster, even after all this time. What should she say to make this better?
"Well then," Naomi says, "if it's the two percent, Matsuda should watch out."
"Do you think Light would target him before me?" L wonders.
"No, but I'm gonna fight him for who gets to shoot Light first," Naomi says, with certainty. "Seriously, L, if he's here, he's going down."
Don't be so afraid. You have friends now.
"Yes," L agrees, giving her a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course."
The new recruits are largely unremarkable. Or at least, that's probably what L and Light would say, since neither of them ever had much time for ordinary people. They were both the sorts of geniuses that someone like Misa could never compare to, which is why she has to use one to track down the other. On her own, she is ineffective.
Misa rubs her fingers over the velvet lining of her chair. It's a sort-of throne, which suits perfectly because she's only a sort-of celebrity. Lee stands to her left, hands clasped. Moore sits on her right, fidgeting with his jacket. They're just people. Misa barely knows them. The only person she ever really knew was Light, and now she's all alone.
The recruits are cute, though. One of them is a short, fat man in a three-thousand dollar suit. In his hand he clutches a gilded cage containing a colourful bird. He regards the animal which such love that Misa is almost jealous of both of them.
Beside him are two adorably identical teenagers, dressed in poofy layers of lace and gingham. Their hands are folded between them, fingers tightly interwoven, but they stare only at Misa.
"She's even more beautiful up close," one says to the other.
The final recruit is a Japanese woman with subdued makeup, an evening gown and a blonde wig. She looks uncomfortably like the person Misa always wanted to be.
"Welcome," she says haughtily, tossing her hair elegantly, because if there's one thing Misa knows it's how to put on a show.
Moore runs through the list of ridiculous cult rules, while Lydia watches.
One of the after-effects of her hell is that she remembers everyone's names. Jas didn't let her retain knowledge of life-spans, since that would interfere with the balance of the worlds, but she gets to know names.
Man with the bird: Christopher Brenner. He was a zookeeper in the second world. He introduces himself as 'Chris Brenner, and may I just say it is an honour to even be near you. I brought you this peacock as a gift.'
Twin with the blue bow: Tina Riley. Both of the twins were only babies when Lydia saw them in the second world. Tina introduces herself as 'I'm Tina I'm the good-looking one.'
Twin with the green bow: Lena Riley. Tina introduces them as 'and this is Lena they're okay I guess' and Misa smiles at both of them, a rare genuine smile.
Woman with the gun ring: Naomi Penber. Worked for L in the second world. She introduces herself as 'Yoriko Yuki' and says she works in sewing machine design.
Lydia keeps her expression neutral. She knows nearly everyone's names, but not L's. She knew it once, but she does not know it now.
She suspects that fact will be important, later.
Teru finds himself sketching Stanton's ring on the back of an envelope. Silver and purple, with rough edges, like vertebrae.
He never thought the third world would be easy, but he thought it would make sense. Everyone says that there's nothing supernatural in the third world; no magic, no ghosts, no monsters. Sometimes Teru has a momentary flash of panic when he meets a stranger's eyes, but nothing has ever happened.
Until now.
How long until he starts turning people to stone again?
What's the point of him trying so hard to be good, if another evil-minded person just takes his place?
Teru forces himself to breathe. L. L is still the key, the absolute good that can be relied upon.
"Constable," Riley says, drumming on the side of Teru's desk. "Have you got a minute?"
Teru has all the time in the world. It's not like he's ever doing anything useful. It's not like he can help anyone.
"Yes, sir," he replies, dutifully.
Riley is holding an open flip phone in his right hand. His knuckles are white. Teru has never seen him not smiling before.
"The twins are missing," he says, and he sounds as if he is choking. "I could really use your help."
L sits up straighter, eyes fixed on the computer even though they don't have a visual feed.
"Misa," he says, softly.
"Misa!" Matsuda says, so quickly that it cannot be a response, it must be his own separate conclusion. He turns to L excitedly. "That's her, right? I recognise her voice!"
L thumbs his lips.
"I am eighty-two percent certain," he says, softly.
What does this mean? In the time that he's known her, Misa has only ever been motivated by one thing, and that thing is Light Yagami. If she thinks that L is standing in her way, then she will destroy him if she is able.
And she is able. Misa knows his face. Misa is famous, and has connections, and is probably lower on the police wanted list than he is.
She has every advantage.
"You should let me join the cult as well," Matsuda says, abruptly. "Misa and I were friends."
L rolls his eyes.
"If Misa knows who you are, then she will assume that you are still working for either the police, or for myself," he says. And then he considers his own words carefully. It is also true that there is good reason to assume that the police are already investigating this incident. Naomi needs to be careful.
He sends her a text message.
"Misa Amane. Police may be involved."
He resists adding 'be careful' or 'I love you' at the end. He's still afraid, and he doesn't have any advantages.
Well, except for Naomi Penber, of course.
Naomi eats her cake in silence, without really noticing the taste. She watches her surroundings, noting the doors and windows and the absence of obvious cameras, noting the chatter amongst the other diners and the way none of them are talking about L, noting who is carrying weapons and who isn't.
And she notices other things, as well. The atmosphere here is completely different to Takada's headquarters. People are talking to each other and giggling. They gaze at the Lady – at Misa Amane, the second Kira – with open admiration, and sometimes she looks back and sometimes she looks away. This cult operates on love, not fear.
This isn't what Naomi expected from the infamous Misa. She was expecting someone more confident, and older. She was expecting a monster in a human disguise.
It's a very good disguise she thinks. Well done.
Naomi finishes her snack and pats her mouth with the napkin. In the end, it doesn't matter what Misa is like. Taking down the second Kira is excellent practice for the day she has to take down the first. And before she can do that, she needs to find Misa's computer. She needs information on Fivenine, she needs to know who else might have a sketch of L's face and who has orders to publish it. She needs to know Misa's fears and weaknesses and what kind of backup plans are in place. She needs to understand her opponent.
No one threatens L and gets away with it.
Lydia Lee, the only person in the room currently carrying a weapon, approaches her. Naomi does not let her apprehension show on her face. She is a professional, after all. And she has her own excellent gun, if it should come to that.
"I don't like the way you're looking at the Lady," Lydia monotones, bluntly. "Get up and come with me."
The implied threat is obvious. Naomi isn't afraid. If she hasn't been treating Misa with enough love or whatever, she'll just apologise and say that she was so besotted she forgot to pay attention to her facial expression. Given the climate in this place, everyone should be satisfied with that explanation.
Lee takes her by the arm and walks her roughly out of the room, turning once to salute in Misa's direction.
Misa blows her a kiss in response.
Naomi finds herself being marched down a long corridor with gilded walls, and then down another with purple glittering carpet. She's still getting a feel for the layout of this place. They come to a stop in a darkened storage room, right next to a fire exit, and Naomi thinks that Lydia must be an idiot.
"Okay," Lydia drones. "Three things. One, this is the only safe place in the entire building. Don't assume that you will escape attention anywhere else. Two, you need to get rid of your taps. After lunch, we all search each other. And three, I'm not sure whether or not they're monitoring our phones. Be careful."
Naomi blinks.
"Um, excuse me?" she says.
Lydia stares back at her, apparently confused.
"Oh," she says,dully. "Three things. One, this is the only safe -"
"Okay, yes, I heard you," Naomi interrupts. Close up, Lydia actually looks a little bit familiar. Like Naomi has seen a picture of her recently. "You're a spy?"
"Yes."
Naomi folds her arms, equal parts worried and annoyed.
"What makes you think I'm a spy?"
"I know who you are," Lydia says, as simply as if she is commenting on the weather.
Naomi holds her gaze for a moment, and then nods.
"I understand," she says, calmly. "You're crazy."
Lydia smiles.
"When we get back to the dining room," she says, "you should appear to be very much in love with the Lady, otherwise we will both be under suspicion. I recommend that you throw out your electronics, quickly. Nobody is checking the plumbing. At least, not yet."
Light finds a pen by the dim glow of his phone, and he writes the words easily; as if they were names, as if the filthy scrap of paper was the death note itself.
He writes, nonsense, fantasies. He writes himself in a tailored suit, sporting his father's moustache and his father's career. He can ignore his own ragged clothes, ignore the sparse whiskers that grow from his chin in unattractive wisps.
In the darkness, no one can see.
He writes out Shadow, and writes a dog instead, because his father always wanted a dog. He writes a picket fence, and a version of himself who was never Kira, who kept all his evil bottled up and only released it in socially acceptable ways. The lies flow across the page as easily as they fell from his lips. He writes the son his father wanted. He writes Sayu, visiting on weekends, doe-eyed and doting over the baby on her hip.
Light doesn't know what happened to her. She was never very strong.
He writes himself making important decisions, mentoring weaklings like Matsuda, a carbon copy of his father. Narratives are, after all, just one more way to play god.
The coward's way.
He writes himself defeating villains, the career his father wanted, and all of them are good-looking teenagers with huge egos. He writes himself in his father's shoes, literally, longer than his feet and so brown they're almost black, perfectly shined. He writes himself in his father's perfectly ironed tie, such a far cry from being a murderer that no one would ever consider the thought. He writes himself with a clean forehead.
His mother's clothes don't suit L, but he writes it anyway.
L forces himself to breathe. And then to breathe a second time. He reminds himself, paints the words on the inside of his head, that there is no way this woman actually knows who Naomi is.
They just happened across another double-agent, that's all. She probably works for the police, or a private firm. He should tell Naomi to steer clear of Lee, either way.
No, he can't do that either. The phones aren't safe, apparently. It might not be worth the risk.
Is it worth the risk?
"It's okay," Wedy says, probably as gently as she can manage. "Naomi is a perfectly capable agent."
L rubs the heel of his hand across his face.
"Of course," he echoes, softly.
What if something happens to her?
We didn't plan for this. What else can happen that we failed to anticipate?
What if he's here?
What if he's HERE?
From the tap, he hears Naomi mutter everything is fine, leave it to me and then the loud violent sound of flushing water and then nothing. Wedy strokes his hair. Matsuda gets up, crosses the room, and starts stroking his hair as well, which is so utterly unnecessary that for a moment L feels better.
"We always win," Matsuda says, cheerfully. "Even when we die."
L clears his throat and nods.
"She is the best person for the job," he says out loud. "We will be fine."
Wedy moves away from him, satisfied. She takes Matsuda by the hand and the two of them move towards the door. L wonders what it must be like, to be with the one you love. He wonders how much easier this case would be if Rae were here. If Rae were there, with Naomi, like she should be.
Sometimes, L wants to go back.
Back to when? Before Matsuda died, when L was still nearly incapable of feelings? Back to when they were all in the first world? It doesn't matter, anyway. They can only go forward. And they must win, because Naomi's life is at stake now, and that is far more important than L's identity. He'd give himself up a thousand times to save someone he loves.
"We're going to bed," Wedy says, casually. "You wanna come, L?"
L is shaken out of his reverie a second time. He stares at Wedy, who stares calmly back. Matsuda looks away from him, blushing.
"Not this time," L says, ruefully. There is nothing to listen to, but he wants to listen anyway. He wants to find a car and drive as close to Misa's headquarters as possible. He wants to be with Naomi, deflecting the danger from her.
"Okay," Wedy says, easily. "But don't do anything stupid, genius."
She leaves, and L nods at the empty doorway.
He won't.
tbc
a/n
+ oh my gosh, thank you so much for sticking with me!
+ um special mention to bleu, megan, laura, al, linzi & lark. you don't know me and you probably aren't reading this fic but um i think you're great.