I'm not proud of the last chapter. Despite the fact that FFYP-det-Lawliet seemed to be more than willing to do a huge amount of art for it, Chapter Two was – in my opinion – a little… lacking. I felt like I was going around in circles, and it kind of seemed like I'd missed the point.

This chapter, however, is going to be good. Very, very, very good. I defy anyone to think that this isn't a good idea. I'm proud of myself on this one, because this is… what I've wanted to write for a long, long time.

Sorry, Light… XD

Disclaimer: Death Note and A Christmas Carol were not made by the same person. Consequently, I can't have made them up.

-

Past, Present, Future

Chapter Three: Present

Light Yagami got to his feet and brushed himself down. He sent a humbug skimming across the floor with an absent-minded kick. Now all the stupidity was over… he was free to read his book.

He wobbled a little on his feet as he made his way over to his chair. When he finally made himself comfortable again, he reached out for his book, and opened it.

The book was nice.

Safe.

It wasn't about to offer him mints, or take him into a flashback, or dematerialise if he tried to hit it. It was nice, and normal, and safe, and tangible.

He gripped the book a little tighter, just to make absolutely sure.

… Yes. It was just a book. Just a regular old book. His bizarre little encounter with L's ghost… no, no, a figment of his imagination, which just so happened to look like L's ghost… it was over. An isolated out of body experience, that was it…

He took a deep, deep breath, and began to read:

Chapter Three.

Awaking in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore –

BOOM

Light leapt about a foot into the air as the door in his room literally flew off its hinges.

"Damn," said a voice from just outside. "That was easier than I expected. For someone squandering L's money, he doesn't put a lot of cash on a good-quality place of residence."

A blond-haired, skinny young man stepped inside the room, his large and ill-fitting black boots making a heavy thump every time he made a step. He seemed to be clad almost entirely in leather, and the rosary around his neck rattled ominously. In his hand, there was a gun, and in his eyes, there was an unnerving, measured kind of madness.

"Who the hell are you?!" Light said, trying desperately not to shriek in terror and failing.

The young man gave him a murderous glance. "I'm the guy who's going to blow your head off if you don't do exactly as I say. Now get out of that chair, put the book down, and come over here. We're going on a little trip."

"And if I refuse… you're just going to kill me, right?" Light asked incredulously.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I could just take you hostage and expose you as the mass murderer you really are. Either way is good for me – mainly because neither would be very good for you," the intruder sneered, and waved the gun in a menacing fashion. "Now get out of the chair."

Seeing no feasible way out of the situation at present, Light rose slowly from his seat, placed the book neatly on the floor, and walked over to the young man. He felt an unsettling amount of cold metal being pressed against his chest, and heard a click as the young man prepared the gun to be used – if necessary.

"Good. I haven't got much time to do this, so it's nice to see you cooperating with me. It'd get awfully messy if you decided you were going to be… difficult. Now," the gun swished quickly through the air and was pointed down the stairs, then returned to its place between Light's ribs, "I'm going to take you down those stairs, and outside the building. Then, we're going to get into a car, and my accomplice is going to drive us somewhere. It'll be fun – like a mystery tour."

There was no difficulty. Arguing with a maniac holding a gun is rarely advisable. Light and the young man swept seamlessly through the house, and out of the door. The gun was shoved even closer as they greeted the cold late evening air, in a vain attempt for two men with their hands shoved up against one another's bodies to look inconspicuous. It came as something of a relief when they reached the car, despite the fact that Light knew he was being kidnapped - moreover, kidnapped by a couple of teenagers with a terrible choice in car furnishing.

Inside the car was putrid. The seats were lined with zebra-striped material, and stank of cigarettes and… was that chocolate? As he was bundled into the back of the car, Light was greeted with an unenthusiastic salutation from the driver, who looked as though he had just come from a cosplay convention.

"Oh," he said. "That was quicker than I'd expected. Hello, by the way - I hope we didn't intrude on anything by M here bursting in with a gun and taking you away like that."

Light rolled his eyes. "No… I'm perfectly fine with random people breaking in and taking me hostage, don't worry abo…"

His sarcasm was cut short by a quick pistol whip to the stomach from the blond-haired young man, whom he could now assume to be M. "You're lucky I'm even letting you talk. Don't waste your words trying to be funny. Now sit down, shut up," he grinned a little, and was handed a slim package from the driver without even saying a word to him, "and enjoy the ride."

The door was slammed shut behind them, and the engine revved. Within seconds, the ride had begun.

"So," said M, digging his fingernail into the package with skilled precision and neatly ripping it open, "I suppose you're wondering who we are, what we're doing, and what we've got planned for you. You're probably also wondering how we know so much about you, but that's not particularly important to this situation, so I won't bother answering that."

Light said nothing, and merely tried to massage some feeling back into his stomach.

"So you are learning. You're not quite as stupid as you first appear," M mumbled, removing the last remnants of the wrapping from item he had been handed and revealing - to Light's relief - a chocolate bar. He tore off a corner, and cracked a piece of chocolate off between his teeth. "Well, I suppose I might as well explain. We - that is, me and the driver here -" The driver raised one of his hands momentarily from the steering wheel in acknowledgment "- are messengers. Wise men from afar, I guess you could say. We've appointed ourselves a pretty daunting task, and also a pretty difficult one - in that we promised we weren't going to kill you right here. Instead, our little Christmas mission is going to be something of an education. Driver, if you could continue for the moment…"

As M began getting intimate with his chocolate bar, the driver explained. "You see, we already know that you're Kira, and we also know why you decided to become Kira. Correct me if I'm wrong, but your primary intentions was to rid the world of evil and criminal actions, right?"

Light opened his mouth to speak, and got another elbow in the stomach. " 's a rhetorical question, idiot," M slurred through a mouthful of food. "We said we already know why you decided to become Kira, we don't need you to explain it to us."

"Anyway…" the driver continued, "we… or rather, M decided it was our duty to show you that - despite the world apparently accepting Kira and becoming less criminally inclined - criminals are still at large. In fact, the state of the world is much worse than it was before Kira ever appeared."

"Clue number one should be obvious," said M as he swallowed the piece of chocolate in his mouth, and began work on the next piece. "The mere fact that you're in a car with two complete strangers, one of which is threatening you at gunpoint… That doesn't sound like Kira's perfect world, does it?"

Admittedly, that was a pretty good point… "So," said Light, in as tiny a voice as possible - partly due to the pain in already in his gut, and partly because he didn't want M to hit him again, "… What exactly are you planning to do with me?"

"How would you like a taste of irony?" M grinned ominously.

The car took a sharp right turn, and swerved artistically into the parking lot of a shabby-looking bar. Light looked around, and wondered – only for a moment – why they had stopped.

However, this thought was quickly interrupted by the handle of a gun striking the back of his head. A split second later, a black bag was being pulled over his face, encasing him in darkness.

"That's the present all wrapped up – now, let's go," M's now muffled voice sneered.

Blindly, Light was pushed out of the car by the two kidnappers and guided at gunpoint to his destination. He could hear loud voices and the occasional tinny note of a badly-tuned radio, and with every step the unmistakable stench of raucous drunkenness grew ever stronger.

"This is a bar notoriously attended by some of the more active Kira supporters," The driver's voice whispered through the bag to him. "Over the past couple of weeks, M and myself have integrated ourselves into this group, and made them believe that we also support Kira – though this is far from the truth. Tonight, we promised that we would give the group a Christmas present: that is, we would hand over someone who didn't support Kira, so they could… make an example of him."

Light's throat went dry. "And I… assume… that this non-Kira support would be…"

The now familiar thud of an elbow in his stomach silenced him.

"Yeah, that'd be you," said M. "I told you it'd be ironic."

As the culmination of sounds and smells swelled to its highest point, a hand gripped Light around the back of his collar – M's hand, no doubt, considering the kind of attitude the young man had – and promptly shoved him face-first into a door.

The door swung open with a slam, and, knees shaking, Light was marched into the room. Inside, the clatters and roars were unbearably loud. He was starting to feel sick, and he was pretty sure that it wasn't exclusively due to being hit in the stomach.

"Hey everyone," M's voice called across the cacophony. "Found this one staging a little one-man protest against our lord Kira, right in front of Sakura TV. And on Christmas too – how heartless."

The jeers only grew louder, drowning out the blare of the radio. It sounded as though they were buying it… The fools! Light knew it would have been impossible to stage a one-man protest in this pro-Kira environment, and to do it directly outside Sakura TV – that would be suicide. Only an…

"Only an idiot'd do something like that!" bellowed a threatening voice from the crowd. "What you tryin' to do, blasphemer – do you REALLY want to die that badly?"

"He's lucky Kira didn't kill him before he got here," said another.

"Nah, our lord Kira wouldn't stoop to spit on a piece of dirt like this guy," said yet another. "Either way, we can do our bit for getting rid of criminals now… Help our lord out, show him our gratitude."

Light felt the grip from his collar loosen, and had to stop himself from turning around and grabbing M's arm. True, he might have kidnapped him and threatened to kill him, but ANYTHING was preferable to this. M had only threatened to kill him…

"Sorry about this, boys," said M, his voice growing a little more distant, "but we have to run. Helping out with Kira's divine justice and all that."

The mob didn't reply. The last sound of hope Light heard was the door closing being M and the driver, and – as the occupants of the bar advanced – the faintest sound of a car driving into the distance.

He was alone again.

And as the first punch landed to his chest, the world faded out…

-

"- alive."

Light's eyes shot open. The world was still black – by the intensified aroma of his own breath, he could tell that the bag was still over his head. However, the feeling of imminent death had dissipated. He sighed in relief.

"But are you sure? He doesn't look conscious," said someone.

"I thought you were a little more observant than that, Commander Rester," said someone else, with a disinterested tone. "He is definitely still alive. If he wasn't, there would probably be a lot more blood on the floor."

"Hmmm…" said the first voice. "Yes, you're right."

"Yes," the second voice said. "I am."

"H-hello…?" Light gasped as loud as he possibly could.

"I told you," the second voice said, without even a hint of smugness. "Now, Commander Rester, please remove the bag from his head. I would like to see the face of Kira."

-

Author's Note: Oh yes. The Wammy's House trinity have arrived.

Okay, okay. So this chapter just stands testament to my tendency to make everything slip slowly into non-canon crack… and the next chapter proves to be even weirder.

But I'm happy with it. Even though it is terribly sadistic.

Gah. Anyway, Merry Christmas!