Sam

When she finally came to, all she could feel was the fluid like sheets against her bare legs. She sat slowly up and looked around, her breath catching in her throat when she didn't recognize where she was. The room was darkened, the blinds closed, but some dying light was streaking through the gaps. The walls were painted blood red and she was sitting on a four poster bed with light blue sheets and quilts. There were several dressers and three doors, one to a walk in closet, another a bathroom, and the final one to another room she presumed.

Sam then realized she was in a gray dress similar to the one she used to wear back at Wammy's. She was disturbed by the image of someone undressing her and redressing her. She licked her dry lips and tasted lipstick. Looking around warily, she slowly placed one foot on the white, plush carpet. When nothing happened, she put her other foot down and stood up. The room spun momentarily and she stumbled toward one of the doors. Her hand was about to touch the brass door knob when it began to turn. Startled, Sam nearly lost her balance in her haste to step back. Garrison sauntered in, exuding confidence. He was wearing a black button up shirt, a pair of khaki pants, but was barefoot. Studying his wiry arms, Sam suspected that he could be strong, or at least strong enough to easily overpower her, and he had a bright smile on his face.

"You're up! Good, I just finished making dinner." His voice was like gravel and it made her cringe.

"W-where am I?" She stammered, backing up from him warily.

He smacked his forehead and looked appalled with himself. "How rude of me! You are at my home!"

I-I had been right; he must be Inclementia.

Sam's face drained of what little color she had. "Y-you're Inclementia?"

He nodded and frowned when he saw the look on her face. "Oh, you mustn't be afraid of me, Saxon! I don't want to hurt you; I could never think of harming you."

As he said this, he reached out, stroking her face with a calloused thumb. She shrank back fearfully. He pretended not to notice and grabbed her arm firmly, but still tenderly as he made her leave the room, leading her down a hall and to a dining room.

There were two places set up and a large candle holder in the middle, all the candles gold and lit. The plates were plain, but no doubt expensive. He pulled her chair out for her, making her sit, and went to sit across from her. She stared at the food on the plate. It looked like steak, a baked potato, and carrots.

"Dig in!" Garrison encouraged.

Sam hesitated a moment longer before slowly cutting a small piece off. She placed it in her mouth and chewed warily, uncertain if he had spiked it or not. It was actually rather good, but she wasn't going to admit it to her kidnapper. However, it must have shown on her face because he only beamed and began to eat as well.

She couldn't figure him out. He seemed like a well brought up man; kind, polite; and obviously wealthy. Was he really Inclementia?

"I'm glad that the dinner is to your satisfaction. I wasn't sure if you liked steak, but I guess I did well." He broke the silence after he had finished his first bite.

"W-what did you do with Tanya?"

"I properly disposed of her."

Sam dropped her fork and stared at him, wide eyed. Her bottom lip trembled and she felt tears well up. Garrison seemed taken aback.

"W-what is it?" He asked, alarm in his voice.

"Y-you killed her...?"

He nodded, now beginning to look confused. She let out a little wail, clamping her mouth with her hands. "W-why? S-she had a family...A sister! S...she didn't do anything to deserve that!"

When she said that last sentence, she knew it was partially true. Sure, she had betrayed Sam, but very few people wouldn't do the same to save their own skin. It all came down to human nature. I'm not mad at her. He's a bully; it isn't her fault.

Garrison looked morose, not because of his killing, but because he had upset his idol. He went over and took one of her hands. "I-I'm sorry! It's just...she got in the way!"

Sam wrenched her hand from him and stood up quickly. "Don't touch me!"

He looked hurt. "I really am sorry..."

"Sorry isn't going to bring her back!" She snapped.

His face suddenly lost its remorse as he pursed his lips into a tight, thin line. He smacked her across the face. The blow startled her and she fell to the ground. She let out a little gasp, having never been smacked before, and stared up at him with wide eyes. He knelt down and grabbed a handful of her sunny locks and tugged harshly. She squeaked in pain, his hot breath on her ear.

"I go out of my way to bring you to my home, I give you nice clothes, I feed you, and you repay me by yelling at me? Saxon, I am your biggest fan and I love you dearly. However, you will be punished if you act out. Am I understood?" He whispered dangerously.

She whimpered and whispered back, "Y-yes, I understand."

He released her hair. "Good. Now, get back up and finish your dinner."

She quietly did as she was told, nibbling on her steak. He went back to his place, the dark cloud suddenly gone.

When they were both done, Garrison led her back to his room, closing the door after her. He pushed her onto the bed and sat on her hips. She stared up at him with doe eyes brimming with fear.

"You're so beautiful." Garrison whispered.

"W-what do you want with me?"

"I just want you." He crushed their lips together in a bruising kiss.

Near

"Thirty year old Tanya Smith has died of a heart attack in her home. She is best known as Saxon Leroux's publisher. Investigators went to her apartment after neighbors complained about loud voices and the sound of bodies hitting the floor. There was a bloodied bat in Smith's hand, though at this time, police are uncertain if it is the attacker's blood."

"Police went to Miss Leroux's penthouse, but it seems that she has gone missing. An investigation has began to search for the aspiring author. Many believe that this is the work of Inclementia; could it be that he has finally decided to kidnap Leroux-" The reporter was suddenly cut off as the monitor turned blank.

Then, the word Inclementia appeared. The scrambled voice began to speak. "This is Inclementia. It is true: I have taken Saxon Leroux to my home. She is alive and well, I have no desire to harm her whatsoever, however, I will not hesitate in doing so if my conditions are not agreed upon. Interpol, you must stop the investigation of Miss Leroux's sudden disappearance. And L, you must abandon the case. As I said, if my conditions are not agreed upon, I will not hesitate harming her. You have forty eight hours to respond."

Rester, Near, and Halle listened and watched the broadcast in shocked horror. Halle hesitantly asked, "Near...what are we going to do?"

The young man didn't answer, still staring at the now black monitor. Rester and Halle could see his expression and it disturbed them. Only once had they seen this particular facial expression: when America gave in to Kira. They knew that the boy was livid at that time, but he never emotionally acted on it. Now, though, he looked like he was ready to kill the nearest thing to him. Halle scooted out of the way just in case he decided to act out. Near suddenly stood up and kicked his dice tower over viciously, the thousands of white faces tumbling and hitting the tiled floor loudly. The sound echoed throughout the room, snapping through the stunned silence like firecrackers.

"That cocksucker. Using her as a bargaining chip; it's a lose-lose situation for both of us." He growled out, voice like knives.

He looked at Rester and Halle, both flinching away from his eyes. The normal blank gray eyes were a deadly shade of black, his anger radiating from them. He commanded coldly, "Rester, pick my dice up."

Without another word, he stormed out of the room, the metal doors sliding shut behind him. The two subordinates sat in uneasy silence before Rester asked, "What do you think he's going to do?"

Halle met his gaze. "I'm not sure, but if he used 'cocksucker' and 'chicken shit' in the same breath, you can expect he isn't going to take this lying down."

The two looked at the dice. Both realized in revulsion that a majority of the dice were stuck with snake eyes. Neither took it as a promising sign.