Sam

Inclementia watched the news intently for the past two days, leaning forward excitedly with his elbows resting on his knees. Sam was curled up beside him, not daring to move a muscle. Though he promised he wouldn't harm her, that didn't control his explosive anger if she even so much as moved the wrong way. She was hugging her knees to her chest, staring at the TV as well.

"L has chosen to respond to Inclementia's warning and we have the video he asked us to show." The reporter stated, the screen flicking to white, the "L" appearing in the center.

The synthesized voice began to speak after a few heartbeats. "I have considered Inclementia's threat carefully over the past couple days. And...I will agree to his terms. I will abandon the case and Interpol will stop investigating."

Sam's heart stopped at the words. There goes my last hope. Is he really giving up?

She couldn't help but feel a little betrayed by him. She thought that L was supposed to be unyielding, even when times were grim. That must have only applied to the original L, she thought sullenly.

He grinned over at her. "Looks like you're all mine."

Sam didn't say anything, fiddling with her hands apprehensively.

During those two days, he continued to kill authors and disappeared during the day time. Sam would be locked in the room, however, Garrison was kind enough to leave her paper, a pen, and books to occupy herself with.

He liked to hit her. She was treading on glass with him; if she did even the slightest thing wrong, she would be punished. Right after, he always apologized, but he insisted she drove him to that point. His mood swings were starting to give her whiplash as she struggled to keep up with him.

Garrison stood up and she immediately did so as well. He blinked approvingly and declared, "I'm going out."

He grabbed her arm tightly, ignoring her small whimper, and dragged her to the room, throwing her inside.

"Stay in here until I get back." He said unnecessarily, leaving the room and locking the door behind him.

She sighed and slumped down against the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. "Now what am I going to do? My last hope just flew out the window! Stupid Near. I dunno why I was relying on him to rescue me anyway. He doesn't even like me that much."

Yet as she said that, she didn't feel like it was the whole truth. He must care about me at least a little. I mean, he did tell me to be careful before...On the other hand, he always lies to me.

"Hmph, well, I don't need him! I'll get out by myself!" She declared obstinately, crossing her arms. "I just need to come up with some sort of plan..."

Near

He was partially telling the truth when he sent that video, agreeing to give up. He wasn't going to work on the case as avidly as he did prior, but he would have someone working under him, other than Halle and Rester, investigate the case for him. Inclementia is stupid enough to fall for a trick like this, too. There is no err in this plan.

"Near, your 'guests' have arrived." Halle said, looking at the monitor.

"Let them in."

Rester pushed the button on the intercom. "Enter."

The two figures didn't move and Rester and Halle frowned. Near didn't blink, turning around just in time for the metal doors to hiss open. The two waltzed in like they owned the room, stopping in the center.

They were a man and a woman. The man had cinreal hair that fell in a halo of disarray around his face, the choppy ends ending at his chin. His eyes were a shade of dull amber. His face was horribly scarred with three slash marks just below his left eye. Another began at the corner of his right eye and went diagonally across his face, stopping at the left side of his jaw. More scars littered his body and directly beneath his collarbone a crude "B" was etched permanently into his ashy skin. He had a hat on and more chains and bracelets than Near could count. His shirt collar was popped and his jeans were ripped. On his feet were frayed combat boots.

The woman looked better than her companion physically, but her attire was more eccentric. Her blonde hair reached her waist and her eyes were russet. She wore a white top hat with red ribbons crawling over it. It was tilted over her right eye. She had on a matching jacket and underneath the jacket was an olive green Gothic dress that fanned out to her knees. She wore brown lace up boots and white lacy gloves on her hands.

"How did you-" Rester began to ask, but the other man cast him an irate look.

"Christ, how long does it take you to open the damned door? We were freezing our asses off! We weren't going to wait out there forever. We hacked into the camera and looped old footage of us waiting out there. Your system is too easy."

"Avon, Noxa. Welcome." Near didn't seem put-off by the man's crude language or by the rude gesture he had been given.

"Sorry about Avon; he's a bit cranky. Didn't have enough vodka on the way over." The woman, Noxa, giggled childishly.

"Near, would you like to explain who these two are and why they're here?" Halle inquired, wrinkling her nose at the two in distaste.

"This is Avon and Noxa. Like Aiber and Wedy in the past, they work in the underground with the recent L. Avon's specialty is infiltration and escaping. Noxa is a weapons specialist and adept at medicinal practices. These two are going to help us take down Inclementia." He explained.

Avon held up his right hand. "Hold up. We didn't agree to anything yet. There's still the matter of money."

"Of course. I've already taken the liberty of setting up a fund for you. The fund is set for half a million. You won't be receiving all of it until you play your parts, however, there is half in the account."

The two exchanged a look before nodding in agreement. Near continued, "I'm sure you both have read the information I sent you."

They nodded again and Noxa asked, "I don't get it, though. If you already know his address, then why not just arrest him without our help?"

"Because there is a small chance he has not taken her there. Avon, I want you to infiltrate the building. Noxa and Rester will be nearby for support should you need it. Be wary; I have told you about the notebook and the Eye Deal. Do not let him see your face."

Avon rolled his eyes. "Hell, if I can survive B's crazy ass, then I can survive anything. If he has the Shinigami eyes as well, it shouldn't be a problem."

Near lifted his hand up to twirl his hair. With these two, this case may just be nearing the end.

"You know the address, correct?" He asked.

"114 Crescent Ave." Noxa and Avon chorused together.

"Rester will take you there right now. Please wear an earpiece so that we may communicate."

Rester handed them both an earpiece and the three left. Once she was certain they were gone, Halle questioned, "Near...are you certain they can be trusted?"

"Yes. Unlike Mello, they won't aim a gun at my head. Or rather, I can trust Noxa won't do that. Avon's a different case."

Halle sighed inwardly. She was hoping there wouldn't be a repeat with that. Something told her Avon wouldn't hold back, either.

"'Kay, I'm in the house." Avon's voice crackled through Near's headset.

"Look around to see if there's any signs of him or the hostage." Near ordered.

"Don't see a point in that."

Near frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The building's abandoned. Looks like no one's lived here in years. It's all dusty and- ugh, I just walked into a fucking cobweb! Dammit, Near, are you sure he walked into this building?" Avon cursed and it sounded like he kicked something over.

"Yes. I am certain. This doesn't add-" Near cut himself off, eyes widening in realization.

"He knew he was being trailed. And here I thought he was an idiot." He murmured, tugging his hair a little roughly. "Return here as soon as possible. We'll think of something else."

"Yeah. Right." Avon turned his earpiece off and went back to where Noxa and Rester were waiting for him.

Back to square one. I can't believe I was foolish enough to underestimate him. Near cursed himself as he felt his anger beginning to return.

These emotions are beginning to get the better of me. I'm not remaining objective to this case; it's that stupid girl. If she wasn't- He paused. If she wasn't what? He had chosen to speak to her at Wammy's. It wasn't fair he took his confusion out on her. He wasn't even certain why he was confused. She didn't mean anything to him. She was only a victim whose life is in danger. 'Yeah. You keep telling yourself that.' A voice in his head stated scathingly, mocking his logic. He sighed and Halle looked over at him. "Is something wrong?" She asked.

It took him a while to answer. "Yes. I just haven't figured out what's wrong yet."

Sam

Later that night, Sam was in the kitchen doing the dishes. She accidentally dropped one and the whole thing splintered into tiny glass fragments. Garrison snapped.

He pushed her to the ground, yelling, "You clumsy bitch! How dare you!"

"I-I'm sor-" He slapped her hard across the face, silencing her.

"I told you not to speak unless spoken to!"

She tasted the iron in her blood. Her bangs covering her eyes, she spat, "You were speaking to me. Or are you as dumb as you are insane?"

Garrison's eyes widened and hers did as well. She scrambled back from him, but he kicked her in the head. She whimpered and he kicked her in the ribs. She heard the sickening snap and screamed. The blows didn't stop and she curled up as tightly as she could, hoping they would end soon. They did, only to be replaced with his large hands wrapped around her throat.

Sam choked as he cut off her airways. Her hands scrabbled for something, anything, to help save her. She felt one of the shards of glass, picked it up, and pierced his cheek. He screamed and released her. Massaging her throat, she kicked him back from her and got to her feet, stumbling out of the house through the back door in the kitchen.

She ran down the street and felt a wave of panic when she saw no other houses. The yellow moon leered overhead as she ran down the poorly lit steets. Her fear drove her to keep running, her mind sending image after image of what would lay ahead of her if she didn't keep moving. She didn't notice the large pothole and she tripped, her ankle snapping. She cried out and fell on her face, her knees and hands scraped up. She could feel hot blood and she curled up in a tiny ball, sobbing.

Thunder and lightning crackled overhead, illuminating the sky briefly. The air smelled like electricity and rain and a drop hit her cheek. It began to downpour, soaking her to the bone. The frigid air made the moisture that hit her skin freeze. Sam shivered violently, feeling weaker and weaker. Her teeth chattered and she buried her face in her arms, shutting her eyes tightly.