Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of the characters except for the OCs.

CHAPTER 1

New York, November 18, 2011.

Valerie

It was evening already. I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck, feeling the thick, soft texture of the woolly fabric provided even more pleasing warmth when I stepped out of campus building. I was soon welcomed by the cold weather I attempted to ignore, as I shoved my hands deeper down the pockets of my coat whilst passing the area in front of the building. November had been unfriendly these days, but then again, the same thing had been happening these past few years. Courtesy of global warming, I supposed, if it wasn't about the infamous doomsday on what people and media kept saying would happen at the end of the next year.

I wasn't the type of person who would easily buy the bullshit of course. Anyway, it did me a favor on keeping me aware that time was precious.

Every single second counted. Time was money. Time was not something you could easily waste.

Time is a matter between life and death.

Well, the last statement was probably more appropriate when it was directed to me... or people like me: medical students, interns, residents, physicians, surgeons, and other people inside the circle.

So yeah, time, for us, was a matter between life and death. The pressures and the anxiety colored our days. You'd got to keep your mind awake all the time, to observe and analyze, to get into an action, all done in extremely careful calculation; any single or simple mistake wasn't excused. You did wrong, you lost your license, and most likely ended up behind the bars. We had been told about them since the beginning and we had kept them well in our minds.

Still, being aware of the obligations as well as the consequences didn't mean it didn't leave any impact.

It did, for most people especially students. Moreover, students who after spending eighteen months sitting behind the table, attending lectures and seminars, and drowning in piles of textbooks almost every single night, would finally go outside and facing their first clinical rotation.

Like the ones I would have in mere two months. And I'm telling you, this would be the most challenging task ever in my life.

I had had my internship in the hospital before, for one full year after graduating from college, in order to gain further clinical experience before I attended med school. And it was useful. In fact, I was really grateful for that, especially in the very moment. Of course, Foundations of Clinical Medicine classes had done enough in preparing the students before the major clinical year, but I also got the real experience in my hands, resulting a plus point on my own.

I wouldn't be pretending here; I was nervous. Really nervous, honestly speaking. But ditching the agitation, I found myself getting excited at the same time. I was getting closer to the real job, to be finally able doing what doctors do, to be able to do what I'd always dreamed for.

Ok, I knew I still have long, long way to go, but hey, being optimistic didn't hurt, did it?

Looking back, I had been away from home for years, going back twice or maybe even only once a year. I moved all the way from my hometown in Paris, leaving my family, to another continent where I pursued my undergraduate study. And now, having a B.A. tailing my last name, I was making my way for an M.D. in Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons. I got in with full scholarship, something I was very proud of, and something my parents were proud of. Which reminded me, things weren't going well between them recently...

The last time my mom called, she and dad were having a fight. Dad didn't even come home that day. That wasn't news; dad had this habit of leaving home every time they had a fight, only going back when he was rather calmed down. I'd seen it with my own eyes until the day I left to US.

But this time was different, something told me it was getting serious. And it was just over a simple problem...

Ok, stop. I had no time for worrying over things like that, and I wouldn't.

My parents were grown-ups anyway; they should be wise enough to find the best solution. The one and only thing I was obliged to do now was preparing for my clinical year.

Half an hour later, I arrived at the apartment building I currently resided in. I entered the lobby and pressed the elevator call button, luckily I didn't have to wait since it opened right away. I stepped inside the metal cubicle and pressed the button of my floor. When I reached the place a sigh of relief immediately escaped me. Thankfully the heater was working; it was much warmer here than in the lobby or outside. I made my way through the hallway to reach my flat, when I noticed someone was blocking the way.

Ah. No, sorry, it wasn't someone. There were two of them, both were men seemingly, standing in the middle of the hallway. Anyway, my flat was on the other side so I had to pass those guys to get into.

"Excuse me," I said as my legs brought me approaching the two men. Now that I was closer, I noticed one of them was my neighbor. I didn't know his name nor did I ever talked to him since I wasn't much of an outgoing person; I only knew that he moved here just about a couple of days ago. But this guy was easy to distinguish due to his uncommon appearance.

Despite his weird choose of attire (striped shirt under fur-trimmed vest complete with elbow length gauntlets, anyone?), the most notable trait was his striking red hair. Red as in red.

Another notable thing was a pair of goggles perching on top of his nose bridge, hiding the entirety of his eyes, which always made me mentally raised an eyebrow, I mean, hello, wearing goggles indoors?

Those two guys seemed alarmed by my presence. "Oh, sorry," the redhead mumbled as he stepped aside, providing a little more space.

The other one, whose head and majority of face covered by the fur-trimmed hood of his leather jacket (he was clad all in leather as far as I could see. Who were these guys actually, local rockers?) also slightly shifted, pulling his hood downward, blocking me from the sight of his face.

All I could see was strands of blonde hair hanging beneath the hood, framing the visible sight of his lower face and neck...

Speaking of which, something on the left part of the neck caught my eyes. Burn scar...?

I didn't get time to have a good look at it though since I continued walking, leaving them behind, not bothering to look back.

Soon as I entered my flat, I quickly yanked my boots off, tossed my coat and scarf over the couch, and not even considering changing clothes or taking a shower, I plopped myself onto the bed. I laid there for a long time, arms and legs sprawled, enjoying the comfy mattress and the soft texture of the covers that came in contact with my skin. Soon, the drowsiness from exhaustion quickly dragged me into a deep slumber...

Mello

"Hurry up, Matt," I growled impatiently toward the goggled redhead before my eyes.

The one I had called looked up to meet my eyes, and I could see below the tinted glasses he was scowling at me.

"Patience, Mello, would ya?" Matt grunted as he looked away, continuing what he was doing before: rummaging the contents of his jeans and vest pockets. "I swear I remember bringing the keycard with me! Now if I remember correctly—"

"Forget the keycard. I got a better idea." I made a gesture to reach the gun on the waistband of my leather pants, safely hidden beneath the jacket I was wearing when Matt stopped me abruptly.

"Don't you dare use that thing to my door," he emphasized firmly, "or I would be kicked out of an apartment for the umpteenth time this year."

"Then hurry up. The pain's fucking itching!" I cringed, feeling the familiar sensation of pain started creeping through my left part of face that was well hidden beneath my hood. It had only been a week since the day I escaped from the Mafia base, out of those explosions and burning fire, far from the very place that had raised me for years.

It was luck. Total luck.

I was lucky to be alive. I was lucky to escape only with ugly, large burn scars across the left part of my face, neck, and upper body. As the result, Matt had to nurse me day after day and I had to make a call to one of my loyal underling in the Mafia, Jack, to get the painkillers.

The guy named Jack Neylon was in charge of drugs, as he was also our scientist in the Mafia. He had connections in every big city in the US, which made everything easier. Therefore I ordered him to send me painkillers, secretly, to Matt's apartment. Still, I didn't feel much difference concerning the pain even though I had been taking the drug every day, except if you counted the high feeling and dizziness.

You're asking why did I still have to depend on a Mafia member for an illegit treatment instead of looking for a legit treatment?

I would have to remind you of these particular things: I, Mihael Keehl, known by my alias Mello, was an ex-Mafioso, with no clear background, having intimidating appearance (as what many people addressed me, quite flattering though), and these burns didn't make any better.

I was more than certain that before I could even take a single step into a clinic, people would stop me at first instance and drag me to the nearest cops. My Beretta 92, which I never left without, would serve as the best evidence to have me arrested. As for living behind the bars? Not the life I dreamed for, thanks.

I looked down, staring blankly at the laces of my leather combat boots. My thought wandered back to the day I first got the hideous scars.

Never had I ever imagined that someday, I got to use the detonator I had prepared secretly only for emergency situation, for real. Being raised in a powerful crime syndicate and surrounded by sly people all the time, 24/7, making me having a hard time to trust anyone, even inside the family. The only person I put my trust into was only the Don himself.

The one I had looked up to as my own father.

Even though he was my adoptive father...

"Excuse me."

A voice disrupted the train of my thoughts, sending me back to earth. I turned my head slightly and saw a woman... no, a young woman—a girl, standing near where Matt and I were. She had pale complexion with long deep brown hair. Within a second I examined her from the corner of my eyes; she was clad in parka coat, a scarf wrapping her neck, and jeans tucked into her mid-calf lace-up boots. A messenger bag was hanging on her right shoulder. She must had been outdoors. The girl watched us in silence, her eyes shifted from Matt to me as if waiting for us to do something.

I looked back at our position and realized that we were blocking her way on the narrow hallway (why didn't they build a wider one anyway? It's an apartment for human, not fucking rats), and it seemed that Matt was aware as well.

"Oh, sorry." I heard Matt replied as he shifted and made a way for her to get by.

I also stepped aside, pulling my hood even deeper on the process. I didn't want to take any chance that anybody recognized me, even if that least likely happened in this kind of place. And I absolutely didn't want to get into trouble by making the girl reacted in horror if she saw my damaged face.

She brushed past me and walked away from us, not uttering any more words, much to my relief.

Not until ten seconds later, a tiny cheer told me Matt had found his condemned keycard. Once inserted, we entered his sanctuary for these last few months; a messy flat with dozens of cables snaking to every direction over the dusty dull carpet covering the floor, connected to additional power sources and laptops with blinding monitors, not to mention cameras near the windows that were pointed outside.

Did I mention Matt was a hacker? A brilliant one; which was the obvious reason why he would be a great help in observing the activities of the Mafia members, secretly, during my hiding period.

I'd never thought I would be meeting Matt again, my one and only old friend, after all these years, in LA of most places. He was the one who suggested I moved temporarily to New York, out of reach from the Mafia's hands, for my safety. I didn't know whether it was purely a coincidence or God gave me a second opportunity in life...

The increasing pain made me hissed. "Dammit..." I was starting to breathe in short, quick pants. As Matt flopped down on his couch and started playing his video game console I stumbled across the room to the kitchen counter, grabbing a small bottle containing white pills. I took one and swallowed it right away, not even bothering to prepare a glass of water because the itch was getting disturbing.

In only a few minutes my head started became heavy, followed by an assault of drowsiness. It seemed the pill began to take effects.

"Better?" I turned my head to Matt's direction, his head poking out of the couch.

"I suppose," I grumbled hoarsely, as I began to remove my hood and take off my jacket, throwing it on the nearest table. "I'm off to bed. And mute the goddamn thing."

The redhead snickered. "As you wish, Boss," he replied tauntingly as he sank deeper on his couch, turning his attention back to whatever shit he was playing, only this time with sounds off. I rolled my eyes and dumped my back on the bed, still in my boots and leather attire. I stirred slightly and draped my arm against my face, protecting my eyes from the dim lights on the ceilings.

No longer later my heavy head completely consumed myself. I was above the clouds. I felt light. High. Numb and tipsy.

I couldn't even differentiate either I was in a conscious or unconscious state... I was completely drowned inside the comfortable, peaceful, soundless night...

And woke up within an endless ring, screaming violently inside my head.