Okay, so I came up with a new title. Starting in three days, this story will officially be called "Unsought Shadows". I'm awesome, right? Oh yeah, and in case you don't read my profile updates, I should let you know that the reason this is so late is because I was halfway done with the chapter and I had it saved to my USB drive, but then I lost the damn thing. Sorry. I'm getting a new one soon, so that shouldn't happen again anytime soon. But I'm writing this on the document manager of FF, because I don't actually have my own computer that I can save to.

But you don't care about my excuses and ramblings, do you? Onward, chapter 9!

Disclaimer: Psh, I wish I owned Death Note. L would've PWNED Light and none of the Wammy's would've died. Also, I don't own the X-Men, who are mentioned briefly in this chapter.

P.S., anyone who can guess who Mo is based off of gets a lifetime supply of cybercookies from L's virtual stash!

L: WTF! NEVER!

\:-'

When I woke up the next morning, I didn't open my eyes, because the first thing I registered was that I was in a bed, and I couldn't feel the rumbling of the van that had lulled me to sleep in the first place. I stiffened where I lay, and I briefly entertained the idea that the shooting, the kidnapping, and the running from the Mafia had all been a part of some elaborate dream my mind had invented to ease my boredom.

That theory went out the window when I recognized that the pillow below my head was not as flffy as the one on my bed, and that my downy comforter that smelled of fabric softener had been replaced with a thick fleece blanket that seemed to cling to my skin and clothes, though not in an uncomfortable way. Warily, I listened for the sound of other people nearby, and I was met with silence.

Prying my eyes open, I scanned my surroundings, noting that the room I was in was completely empty of other people, though it wasn't fully empty by any means. The bed I was in was actually a daybed, pushed against one wall horizontally. Against the wall parallel to me, there was a refrigerator, a microwave, and an old-looking television set. Perpendicular to that on the right was a book shelf that was half full with unorganized titles of various authors. One the wall across from that were two more beds, placed so that they extended perpendicularly from the wall. Next to those was a single wooden door, and nothing else. I glanced down at myself, still in the blood-dusted white shirt and pants I'd been wearing the previous night. The fleece blanket was amusingly decorated with a black and white panda print. It made me think of my cousin.

I turned my body, sliding off the bed warily. I had no idea where the hell I was, and it was so eerily quiet, I was beginning to freak out. "Hello?" I called out. I didn't actually expect someone to answer, but it was worth a try. I just kind of sat there like an idiot, wondering what to do, until the door opened. Even though he had stalked and techincally kidnapped me, I have to say that I was relieved to see Mello come into the room, especially carrying a white t-shirt and jeans with him.

"Hey, you're awake," he acknowledged, handing me the clothes that I took with greed. "You've been out for a few hours since I woke up. Then again, I suppose that's to be expected, seeing as you must've hit a pretty big adrenalin high yesterday." I nodded, setting shirt and pants down next to me.

"Where are we?" I asked. "Your friend's safe house?" Mello nodded, pulling a chocolate bar out of his seemingly bottomless pockets.

"Mo is upstairs talking to her dad," he said. I quirked my eyebrow upwards, indicating that I wanted a further explanation. I wasn't disappointed. Mello gave a sigh, like he was about to explain something I might not have wanted to hear. "...she's actually not that old. She's only gonna be seventeen in a few weeks. She lives with her dad, but he doesn't actually know about her connection to the mafia. He's a big shot doctor, so he's gone most of the time anyways, but he watches her pretty close. Right now we're in the third basement down. Mo's old man doesn't know about it, so it's perfect for harbouring stray mafiosos like me and Matt." I nodded consistently as I took in the information he was giving me.

"It's also only accessable through a hidden passage in the second basement, which is only accessable through another hidden passage in the first basement. Mo's dad only knows about the first, so he wouldn't find us, and no one from the outside would be able to get in. Even if they managed to get into the second level, they'd probably never think of a third."

"What if they did?" I mused. "She'd be pretty screwed then, right?" Mello snorted.

"She's actually almost done building the fourth one." I raised my eyebrows at the girl's thoughtfullness. It was impressive. I had to give Mello credit; he certainly knew how to choose his friends, especially if she was managing to hide it all from her father the way she was. I got the feeling that Mello was done talking, but before the awkward silence could settle over us, a loud bang sounded from seemingly above our heads.

"Damn it, what is she doing now?" I raised an eyebrow in worry. Another explosion came a few moments later, and it was obvious that Mello wasn't going to just let it continue any longer. He stood up quickly, and I instinctively rose to follow him, despite the fact that I was still in blood-dusted clothes. Mello, however, seemed to be very aware of that fact, as he pushed me back onto the bed by my chest. "Get changed, I'll wait outside the door." I scowled at his obvious command, but didn't respond verbally, doing as he said. It killed me that the stupid pants couldn't have been white, but they were a whitewashed denim that was close enough, and would have to do.

For now.

I followed Mello down what seemed like a labyrinth of concrete tunnels, and I was beginning to down his directional skills, though he assured me that he knew where he was going. Surely enough, despite my skepticism, we eventually reached what looked like an elevator. The two of us stepped in, and Mello pressed the up button once. The doors closed and we started moving up, our ride being interrupted by yet another explosion quaking the ground beneath our feet. Mello cursed quietly under his breath again, and the doors opened.

Once again, we were lost in a maze of hallways, but Mello seemed to know exactly where we were. Finally, we came to a set of wooden double doors, which the blonde promptly kicked open, just in time to get blasted in the face with a puff of black smoke. I coughed, the fumes reaching over to me, though the sound was undoubtedly drowned out by Mello's raging.

"Damn it you stupid pyromaniac! Can't you go five minutes without blowing something to shit?" I had to squint to see through the thick smoke, but Mo must've designed the ventilation system for easy gas removal, because the stuff cleared out very quickly. When it had finally diluted enough to see through (and enough so that we wouldn't get lung cancer just by standing near it), Mello tugged my into the room. Now that I could somewhat see it, I noticed that it seemed to be entirely made out of metal, and there were ash stains all over the walls.

Standing in the direction that Mello had pulled me was a girl. And by a girl, I mean physically. Because I'll tell you right now, she looked more manly and badass than Chuck Norris. She had aviator goggles pulled over her blue eyes (probably to block the smoke and possible debris), her short blue hair splayed out in layers that looked like feathers. She was wearing clothes that were obviously feminine, but gave her a rather tomboyish look; a black t-shirt that was obviously too short, as it cut off above her belly button, loosely fitting cargo shorts, and red sneakers.

Hell, I had to admit it; the girl would be considered "cute" among normal people. I'd even heard people use the word "hot" to describe people like her. However, I thought her appearence leaned more towards maniacal, as she was holding what looked like homemade dynamite in each hand, and had ash smears all over her face. The demonic grin she was wearing didn't help either. She looked like she was about to chuck one of her explosives at each of us.

"Mo for Mortar, Mello-Yellow," she teased. I almost laughed. Mo for Mortar. Plus, the way she talked to Mello indicated that she was either extremely familiar with him, or didn't care that he had the ability and reason to shoot her in the head. Considering her overal demeanor, I'm tending towards the latter.

"If you don't quit calling me that, Mo is gonna stand for Morgue, 'cause that's where I'm gonna put you!" She laughed, jumping into the air as Mello dove at her. I almost gasped at the height she got up to. She must've been at least ten feet in the air.

"And this must be the darling little sheep I've heard so much about?" Mo said, walking over to me. She slung an arm around my shoulders, giving me a cheeky smirk when my face heated up. She laughed. "Don't worry, he doesn't talk about you that often. And it'll be a cold day in hell before Mello uses the word 'darling' in any context." I felt the corner of my mouth twitch back a tiny bit. "The name's Mo, short for mortar. You can see why." She gestured to the ashen remains of something unidentifiable in the center of the room. "I'm the world's best bomb techinician!"

"Near," I said, monotonously. "Nice to meet you." Mortar gave me a once over, all the while giving me a skeptical look.

"You seem too stiff..." she mused, her face lighting up. "You should loosen up! Set one off with me!" My eyes widened as she thrust a stick of dynamite at me. I almost dropped it in surprise. I'd never actually held something so destructive in my life. I don't think I'd ever even held a gun, let alone an explosive device.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Mello jumped in. "You don't just throw live bombs at someone!" Mortar pouted, crossing her arms.

"It wasn't lit!" she huffed. "I'm not that stupid!" Matt chose that time to make an appearence. I glanced over at him, realizing that he had been ducking behind some kind of barrier while Mortar was setting off bombs.

"Actually, you are that stupid," he contradicted. "You almost killed me the last time we came up here! Twice!" Mortar still didn't back down.

"Jesus," she sighed. "You almost kill someone twice by accident and suddenly there is no trust..." I examined the bomb as she spoke, wondering what it would feel like to blow something up. Judging from Mo's attitude, it must've been pretty frikin' awesome.

"I want to try it." Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at me; Matt with amusement, Mortar with excitement, and Mello like he regretted bringing me along.

"Damn it...I'll get the burn salve."

I had already blown up eight wooden chairs and a table by the time Mello decided that I'd had enough time with the explosives. I was getting more and more eager to light up another stick of dynamite after every one I threw. I understood now why Mortar liked it so much. Blowing things up was...addicting, to put it simply. It was one of those things that you just couldn't stop doing once you got started. Setting of dynamite was like a drug, the most exciting version of cocaine ever invented.

That was why I refused to leave what Mo had entitled "The Danger Room" (something having to do with the X-Men comics, I think), until Mello forcibly dragged me out by throwing me over his shoulder. Once I was out of the Danger Room, and the smoke fumes started to clear out of my head, I began to realize just how childish I'd been, and started to feel embarrased about it. Mello didn't mention it again, though, which I was greatful for, though I obviously didn't tell him that.

Mello had carried me all the way back to the room I'd woken up in, plopping me on the bed before going over to the fridge. I peeked around him, noticing all the food he'd purchased at the gas station, as well as a few other things, like the dozen or so cans of an unmistakeable drink. I shuddered. Mello definately did seem like the type to drink alcohol, I just could see him doing it in my mind's eye. I probably grimaced noticeably when he pulled a can out and popped the top open, but his back was turned to me. After he'd chugged a couple gulps of beer, he tossed me a bottle of water.

"Clear your head, and your throat," he noted. "And expect to vomit sometime today. It always happens to first-timers after a round with Mo in the DR." I grimaced again, not caring if he saw that time, which he did. He just chuckled at me.

Mello clicked on the TV, and I noticed that it was wired to a cable box. "How does that one teenage girl afford all this?" I asked, gesturing to everything around me. It seemed extremely weird that she could build four basements and furbish them decently without her father knowing, all by herself.

"She sells explosives, and does arson jobs for her family," Mello answered. "Her crime familiy, that is. She's been doin' it since she was ten." I felt my eyebrows shoot through the roof. I'd been solving quadratic equations and the like when I was ten, but Mortar had been involved in a life of crime and explosions since then? I didn't really know how to feel other than drily amused at the irony.

"What about you?" I asked. "It just occured to me that I don't know anything about your background." Mello stiffened a bit at the mention of his past, but proceeded to talk anyways.

"Well...I don't think there's much to tell. My dad's parents migrated from Russia, and my mom came over from there when she was twenty. They got hitched and had a kid; that's where I come in. I was smart, and advanced to the point where I was doing college level math in the sixth grade. But after my folks died in a gang shootout, I cut school and joined Rod's family. He liked me pretty good 'cause I'm good at strategy and planning. I made his family top of the city, and probably the country, and I had complete control. Then, I got a tip that some lower downs were gonna try and take me out. I killed them, but got busted for it. I had to run. Then Matt and I ended up outisde of LA trying to lay low for a while. After that, I met you, and the rest is history."

I felt a bit of pity for Mello, at that moment. He acted so nonchalant about the whole thing, but his life had been harder than mine multiplied by ten. "What about you and Matt?" I questioned further. "How long have you guys been friends?"

"We've known each other since we were seven. Matt was always a good hacker, so when our parents were murdered together, he stuck to me and joined up with Rod." I nodded my understanding. "...What about you?" Mello asked, suddenly deciding to turn this back on me. I winced. My childhood, though isolated and lonley, seemed cushy and imperialistic compared to his. Obviously, though, I wans't going to be able to talk my way out of the question without seeming like an insensitive ass.

"Mine was nowhere near as challenging as yours. For the first few years of my life, I lived with my parents, who always worked, and when they died, I moved in with Elliot, who also works. When it became evident that my IQ surpassed that of my peers, Elliot began to train me in deductive reasoning. Then, I too worked. I never had friends, or a social group of any kind. I've always been alone, and eager to fulfill expectations."

I didn't think it sounded nearly as bad as getting involved in illegal weapons trade or becoming the wingman of a ruthless mafia boss, but I kid you not, Mello seemed absolutely appalled.

"Hey, your life may not have much gunfire in it, but that still sounds like it sucks. If I were in your position, I would be dying to trade it away for the life I have now." I stared at him curiously. "I mean, it sounds like you were isolated until your parents' deaths, and then you started working when your cousin figured out that you were smart. Didn't you ever go rampant? Ever stop toeing the line and cause mayhem? Something worth noticing?" He seemed like he was begging me to tell him that I'd done something bad at least once in my life. But now that he'd mentioned it, I could feel the fear, years old, creeping into my stomach out of pure reflex.

"N-No," I lied, badly. "I have always been a model student, and frankly I've never been one to cause 'mayhem'." Mello rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

"You know that's a horrible lie, right?" he questioned drily. I nodded, defeated. "What'd you do?" Despite the fact that I was dreading having to explain it, he seemed eager to know. I sighed.

"I used to throw tantrums at my parents when they got home because usually, they came through the door at ten, sometimes eleven, o'clock at night. I was very small then. One day, though, my father decided that he'd had enough, and he began to...effectuate...corporal punishment." I stopped talking, as Mello seemed to be at his breaking point. His face was so red that it seemed to be on the verge of turning purple, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"He hit you?" the blonde asked. I nodded hesitantly, my cheeks burning. "Continue." Mello's words were spoken through clenched teeth, and I could tell he was fighting not to rip something apart and start punching something. Hopefully, neither of those things would be me.

"Well my mother...she was not happy with the arrangement, but she too was exhausted. She saw that it stopped me from having my tempers and thought that it was the only other way. So she began to do it too. They died close to five months after that. They'd already broken me, though." I had accepted that fact long ago, but it still tasted like rusty nails and vinegar to admit it out loud.

It was true; I had once been an active, ordinary little boy with a high IQ. But emotion...that's what had come to destroy me. Emotion was what had carved out my facade of an uncaring, stoic robot who sat still, stayed quiet, and didn't cause a ruckus. I could've laughed at the irony.

"That's why you are the way you are, then?" I nodded. "Man..."

"But that's not important anymore," I insisted, trying awkwardly to push the subject to the side. "Can I have something to eat?" He still looked like he was incredibly pissed, but was trying to calm down. I was almost relieved that my parents were already dead, because Mello looked like he would murder them himself if the deed hadn't already been done.

"Yeah," he replied through clenched teeth. I sighed, shaking my head.

Then, something clicked in my head, and I jumped up immediately.

"Shit! Elliot!"

Well this'll be a fun conversation...

So...how many of you hate me for the previous hiatus? I hope not too many. I just hope you guys don't stop reading...

As usual, please review, and I'll update as soon as I can!

Bensu-kun