A beast approaches
Geryon
Face of an honest man
Body that ends in a scorpion's stinger
He'd never physically fought with anyone before L.
School life for him had always been peaceful, and he understood why that was--why he had never drawn the attention of bullies, why he was so immune when the other guys around him were always getting picked on.
To him it was as basic a thing to comprehend as breathing.
Bullies never came after him, or even looked his way for that matter, simply because of how he carried himself: walk with your head held high, speak with only the appropriate amount of loudness, and always look everyone in the eye when doing so.
It was not difficult to tell a confident person from one who was insecure and could be easily manipulated. Then again, being bullied was as likely the vigilant search for someone weak to exploit, as it was the probability of selecting a target whose demeanor just happened to rub you the wrong way.
He could have very well been bullied in high school, but Raito doubted he would have had any trouble dealing with them. Fights between high-school students were hardly considered serious to him; Raito could deal with any blow he received from someone his own size, as his scuffles with L always ended in draws.
However, fighting off two grown men was a completely different story, especially grown men whose job it was to torture hardened criminals-types on a regular basis. Only now did Raito see his error in calling the physical bouts between himself and L fights, because in contrast to what he had just endured…
He and L had just been playing around with each other.
The real thing…
It hurt like all hell.
Raito pressed a hand to the bruises on his stomach and winced.
Those stupid bastards.
He breathed in deeply, and the pain in his abdomen made him curl forward and close his eyes.
How I wish I had a deathnote right now.
Fighting the gravity that exhaustion threatened to pitch him in, Raito picked his head up and rested it back against the closest wall. He opened his eyes and stared ahead, and instantly scowled as he caught his reflection in the mirror-like wall across from him.
I'd write all your names down…
...especially L's. I'd write your name down first.
Raito lightly touched fingers to his cheek and the scowl only deepened as a familiar face glared back at him.
Not even a scratch.
They had beaten him until he couldn't even stand, and yet not one hit to the face. Raito squeezed his eyes shut in frustration.
L, you high-and-mighty prick…
He hated the fact that he instantly knew why L had ordered those men to not touch his face, and the knowledge of that burned him deeper than if those two had really laid into him.
...treating me like some fucking trophy-piece…
...just so you can prove a point:
Raito gnashed his teeth together, staring at the gag that was only removed after he'd had the crap kicked out of him.
That I speak only when you allow me to.
Raito resisted the urge to slam his fist into the wall behind him.
But I know you won't kill me yet.
I still have something you want…
…and you won't leave me alone until you get it.
That's just the kind of person you are.
If things aren't going your way…
…you persist until they do.
Raito ignored the screaming in his head, the frantic voice that spoke of hopelessness and of an inevitable death. If he started to think that way he'd only make his situation that much harder to deal with. He couldn't panic anymore; he'd done enough of that for the two weeks of absolute silence and darkness he'd endured.
He had to keep calm, had to always keep in mind that L wouldn't kill him unless he had reached some final resolution with this case. And the only way Raito could push L into going against this resolution, into abandoning his intent of finding the other deathnote, would be if he renounced his deathnote and lost all his memories.
Then you'd kill me without a second thought…
…because I'd be completely useless.
Raito took a deep breath.
He couldn't give up ownership of that deathnote – no matter what!
He had to remain aware of himself. It was the only way he could survive for now, and L knew that, knew he wouldn't give up his memories for anything because he wanted to live, wanted to have some control over the situation.
Giving up his memories at this point would be like committing suicide. He'd be as helpless as a lamb, and he'd suffer so much more for it, because he'd believe with all his might that he had done none of the things L would be accusing him of. He'd deny it to the bitter end, and then he'd die a miserable death, cursing the very existence of Kira, when in fact he was cursing himself.
This time he could not use a trick like that to shift the blame, because L knew he was Kira; therefore he could not rely on L's meticulous way of doubting himself to create a loophole from which he could escape.
Raito bit into his lip.
Time. He needed time to figure out what his next move would be. He also needed to see L, as from now on the actions he took would be solely determined by what L did first. It was a sorry situation to be in, but it could not be helped. Raito wanted to get through this and he would do whatever it took.
L, you can degrade me all you want…
…it doesn't change the fact that I'm not about to roll over and let you win.
Raito stared directly at the camera imbedded in the ceiling.
I can suffer for my cause…
…it only makes it that much nobler.
Raito kept staring at the camera.
I don't care what you do to me…
I still have my pride!
Two days later
Looking through a window on the eastern side of the building, L could see the bridges off in the murky distance, each one severely bisecting against the pale sky--all iron-wrought monstrosities that rose out of the rivers and canals that snaked under them, and made St. Petersburg seem more ominous than one would have liked their mid-afternoon view to be.
"The young lady really does go along with anything once you mention his name. But even a conman has problems dealing with that much agreement."
"She is very different from Raito, and sometimes I do not know how to handle her," L said, glancing over at Aiber.
"Love that makes you drop everything and run away to a foreign country..." the detective looked down at his feet, "...I do not think I understand her at all."
"When I left her in the next room, she didn't even ask where I was going. I haven't heard a word of complaint out of her yet," Aiber reported.
"That is because she knows she is the second kira and that Raito is the first. She will remain compliant because she does not wish to make trouble for him.
"Despite her friendly disposition," L continued, "she will do whatever it takes to make Raito love her. She will lie and murder for him, and the fact that she has no problem giving up half her lifespan for that love, makes her that much more dangerous."
Aiber raised an eyebrow and strolled over to the center table, glancing at the laptop that displayed an inside view of the cell that Raito was currently being kept in.
"I'm surprised you hired those two…"
L turned away from the window and silently began making his way towards the door.
"Not that I blame you," Aiber said conversationally, "but I'm somewhat disappointed with myself, as I judged his character and yours completely wrong."
L halted as his fingers touched the cold brass knob. "Please go update Watari on the situation up here. He will be Misa's caretaker from now on and I have left your assignment with him."
"Russia's weather has never agreed with me, so I think I would like to get out of here as soon as possible." Aiber glanced back over at the screen. "I'm also not too keen on what's happening on your laptop," he replied with a grimace, and reaching out, he snapped it shut.
L continued to say nothing and quietly opened the door.
Misa was sitting on a white sofa and staring down at her hands when he entered, her hair worn down over her eyes like a flaxen veil.
"Ryuuzaki?"
L had immediately come to a stop when he caught her gaping. She then bounced up from the couch like she was made out of nothing but air and hurried over to him.
"Hello Misa-san."
"What happened to you?!"
L looked down at himself and then back at her.
"I fell," he said, moving past, "But it is not as serious as it looks."
"You look sick," she blurted out.
"Yes…" L scratched his head, "...I feel a little under the weather, but it --"
"Nobody's taking care of you?" she asked and looked around the room. "Where's Raito? Shouldn't he be chained to you? Did you two get in a fight again? Is that why --"
"Misa-san," L interrupted and pointed at the couch. "Please have a seat. I can only properly keep up with you when I'm not taking Pregabalin."
Misa stopped what she was about to say and then planted herself down on the couch.
L leaned forward in the wheelchair and poured himself a cup of tea. "I understand you have things you would like to ask me about in concerns to Raito-kun, but please bear in mind that both of you are under suspicion."
He would not confront Misa on the certainty that she was the second kira, because that decision was not his to make--it was up to Rem. He would only take things up from where he had left off in Japan.
"Huh?! Why do you still suspect us?" she demanded. "I thought you brought me here to see Raito! Where is he? I don't get why I can't see him?!"
L took a sip from his teacup and waited for Misa to stop.
Of course she suspected that he had done something to Raito, but suspect was the only thing she would be able to do, as he had no intention of letting her see it for herself.
"Misa-san," he said sternly, "please shut up, overreacting will not accomplish any --"
"Don't tell me to shut up! I have a right to know where my boyfriend is! I thought –" Misa paused and L felt only unease at the sudden change in her voice. "I thought everyone was okay with each other, after we all caught Higuchi. I thought -- but now Raito's not here and you won't tell me where he is." She sniffled, and L studied her carefully and hoped that the situation that appeared to be on the horizon could be averted with some words of support.
"Misa-san, do not cry; your eye make-up will run."
Instead of calming her down, his words seemed to do the exact opposite and Misa suddenly burst into tears. And as she continued to cry, L sat there and miserably sipped his tea, wishing that Watari would come relieve him from this soon.
Today was not one of the best days of his life, and for now, he simply wanted to go back into the other room and not speak to anyone for as long as he could manage.
Misa began to sob louder and L felt tired just watching her. He'd thought he had control over the situation, but with Misa crying hysterically and his input – or lack thereof -- not helping any, L could admit when he was soundly defeated.
Thankfully, a rap at the door saved him from having to hear Misa call him an idiot whilst crying.
"Mr. Hunde would like a word with you," Watari reported and L glanced over at Misa before sensibly moving towards the door; he was assured that Watari would be better at handling this than him -- actually he was quite assured that any person would be better suited at handling this situation than he would be.
"A notebook?"
L slid his fork through a slice of black-forest cake, cutting it neatly in half.
"Yes, I thought I made myself perfectly clear, unless you need me to further emphasize on a point that I have repeatedly gone over in my notes."
"No, I just have a hard time believing that a notebook --"
"There really is no other way to explain the events that have been happening all over the world."
Mr. Hunde did not readily reply, choosing instead to wait before the words "and the shinigami?" left his mouth.
"She stays on the roof – her name is Rem and she does like me very much." L shoved the fork in his mouth and chewed nosily. "If you would like to meet her then I could arrange it, although I am hesitant to let anyone touch the notebook. But if you still need to see her I will understand."
L took another bite out of the cake. "How does Mr. Tailor feel about this?"
"He said with the amount you're paying us you could tell him that space aliens were behind all of this and he would still believe you."
L looked up from his exploration of the cake. "That is both troubling and refreshing to hear."
Mr. Hunde stared at L oddly. "Yes…well...at the moment, I'll be taking his stance; but in the future, I'd like to see some proof of this notebook and this Rem character, if that will not breach our contract."
"I can let you see Rem, and that should suffice. The murder-notebook will not be used as of right now to prove anything."
Mr. Hunde nodded. "That's fine -- I might not be too sure of what to believe, but the amount of evidence you have stacked up against Kira…is impressive."
"No," L corrected, "I only have one hard piece of evidence against him – that notebook. The rest of the instances are not physical articles, so I will only view them as the foundation that brought me to this point, and I will view that notebook as the only substantial evidence.
"My second piece of evidence is where you two come in," L explained. "That confession will serve to finalize what I all ready know, as will the fact that he knows the location of the other notebook that has yet to show up.
"I am also planning ahead, as the forces we are dealing with," L said, pointing up at the ceiling and insinuating at the shinigami on the roof, "are unpredictable, and if it were to change its mind or Raito's shinigami were show up, I would at least have an admission of guilt from our suspect that I could send to an outside source to store for me."
"I have to tell you though," Hunde interrupted, "he's quite a handful, and you're not helping when you put limitations on what we usually start off with."
"Yes, I understand," L apologized, "but please bear with my requests. I have my reasons."
"But not hitting him in the face?"
L stared at the man. "When I go to speak to him it will just be more pleasant for me if there are no visible marks."
"I've never heard a client bring up that kind of concern before."
L knew how unreasonable and just how utterly strange it sounded, but it was the nature of the person he spoke to right now and possibly the company that he kept that made Mr. Hunde so reluctant to let his request go.
Hunde, as he was aliased, or a Mr. Emory Möller, was a physician who specialized in trauma surgery and Physiatry. He had a legitimate license, but he obviously practiced outside of his field, noting the work he did on a regular basis.
Hiring a person with knowledge of this kind was quite commonplace for this occupation. It was actually a cardinal rule of torture that the skill of the interrogator laid not in how much damage he could inflict, but in how much damage he could inflict while keeping his target alive and fully vocal. And skillful in this rule as he was cautious, Mr. Emory had once worked for the European Union's criminal intelligence agency as their lead "interrogator", while his partner, Tailor, or a Mr. Jacob Ward, was an ex-special forces member, who had been stationed in the Panzer Barracks and who'd served in one of the six Operational Detachment Alpha teams. He was combat proficient in various grappling martial arts, like judo and sambo, and had been called upon many times as an interrogator for US-military foreign occupations.
These two men were used to working fast and under their own counsel, and L was never going to be the type of person to sit back and relax when a case was in motion. So when concerns came up, there was bound to be some disagreement in how to handle it. But since he was paying them a ridiculous sum of money, he expected them to shut up and do as was told, though when hiring others things like that rarely went the way you wanted it to.
L leisurely plucked one of the cherries that dotted the sides of the cake. He noticed that Mr. Hunde was looking at his watch, and getting the hint, L took the cherry with him and began to move towards the door.
They were presently in a room adjacent to Raito's current cell, and after making the necessary relocation, L took his place in front of the two-way mirror. Unlike the last cell, this one had three solid walls and was a lot more spacious. It was also one floor lower.
"Tailor won't actually break his arm this early into things, but if he fights through that hold the wrong way he could very well sprain it." Mr. Hunde tapped on the glass to give his colleague a heads-up and then turned to L. "Although I doubt that boy would even try – he's passive, only reacts to break free when given the chance."
"Because it takes up less energy," L replied. "He's not going to burn himself out, and if he fights back, he knows he'll only get more hurt."
"That's why Tailor switched to hapkido – he doesn't plan to burn himself out either. Although we don't have to worry about that since we take shifts. It's the best way to deal with him."
L frowned slightly and turned to face the door. "Did you carefully read through the profile I gave you?"
Hunde nodded his head. "There were actually some things that I'd like you to confirm in concerns to that." Staring into the cell, the doctor asked, "That unmarked number under his birthday…what exactly would that be?"
"That would be his IQ, Mr. Hunde."
They stared at each other silently.
"And then the number under that?"
"An estimate of how many he's killed."
There was more silence.
L bit into his thumb and began to gnaw at the nail. "Are you a god-fearing man, Mr. Hunde?" he suddenly posed.
"No," the doctor answered, "and after reading through that, I see it makes absolutely no difference to him, seeing as how he practically took out two priests."
"Then I shouldn't have to warn you that he enjoys manipulating anyone that will give him even the slightest advantage. Please be aware of that every time you or Mr. Tailor walk into or out of that room."
"I'll be more than careful, but we shouldn't have anything to worry about, as he no longer has that notebook."
"Yes, the immediate danger is gone," L said and bit into his thumb again. "But there is a reason why I keep him under 24/7 surveillance and I strap him down to any surface that will properly hold him."
"Right," Hunde agreed and watched Tailor stroll out of the cell.
"Your turn," the ex-soldier called out, hefting a thumb at the door.
"If you will excuse me then," Mr. Hunde said, but stopped when L rolled in front of him.
"I think I would like to speak to him before you begin."
"Then would you like us to tie him back to the chair?"
"No, it should be fine," L said. "I saw Mr. Tailor take the necessary precautions before exiting."
Look at that great one who is coming
And seems not to shed a tear for pain
What royal aspect he still retains!
He is Jason…
With him goes whoso in such wise deceives
And let this suffice to know of the first valley
and of those that it holds in its fangs
When L pulled up to Raito in his usual fashion, the brunette opened his eyes and practically sneered at the sight of him. He began pushing himself up from the floor, standing upright, like a doll come to life.
Raito took one step forward, but the fetter around his neck kept him leashed within a small radius.
"You know this isn't necessary," Raito growled, snatching at the chain for emphasis.
"You are a dangerous criminal that needs to be put in restraints at all times."
"Is treating me like some dog apart of my detainment too?"
L quietly scoffed at the word "detainment".
"I'm treating you as I would any god of your caliber -- the kind that walks on all fours and bites the hand that feeds it."
Raito looked at him with such a vehement expression that L could hardly believe how anyone could possibly hide this kind of malice beneath a façade.
"I finally get to see what you look like under the smile, and I have to say…
…you really are something to behold."
Raito ignored him and paced to the other side of the room.
"I suppose only dead men have seen that expression, so I should count myself very lucky."
"Are you having fun taunting me?" Raito asked breezily and came to a halt.
"I am only doing to you what you've been doing to me for this entire case."
"And here I thought we were friends," Raito said, smiling exactly as he did the day L had said those very words to him, and L felt somewhat sick at how easily he could turn that expression on and off.
"Is this how you always treat anyone that tries to get close to you?" Raito continued. "Now I understand why you're so alone."
L felt his toes curl in of their own accord, and scratching the side of his arm rather gruffly, he replied, "and I think it is also a crying shame how being popular doesn't save you from developing a messiah complex."
Raito's gaze immediately flickered to the space that separated them, and L smiling that peculiar smile he had wisely retreated to a safter distance. "You started it," he retorted and stared absently at the wall. L then added impartially, as if they had not been fighting at all, "I actually promised those two men behind the glass that I would not be long, but there are so many things that I would like to speak to you about, or at least, see your reaction to.
"For instance," he begun, without giving Raito a break, "how desensitized do you have to be to kill a man and not show any emotion over it?"
Raito narrowed his eyes at him, and L felt that recurrent spark that he did not like to acknowledge whenever such a look was aimed at him. It was a feeling he could equate to staring death in the eyes and then simply having a conversation with it.
It was very unnerving.
"I watched you very closely that night -- and you understand exactly what night I am talking about. I recall the expression you had as you pretended to study, and it was so unremarkable, so unmoved. Looking at your face, I would have never been able to determine the exact moment you ended someone's life, only by looking at your hand as it reached into that stupid bag of potato chips," L ended grumpily.
"I will not lie to you, at the time I doubted whether I was even dealing with a human being. I thought maybe I was being toyed with by some god, and I felt frustrated that that was even an option to consider.
"But I knew that couldn't be the answer," he continued, "and my only other conclusion was that Kira was indeed human, and that within the short time he had started, he was so far gone that turning a page in a book and killing someone brought out the same reaction from him."
L leaned forward and Raito stared cagily at him.
"How did you progress so quickly, Raito? From killing a single murderer to more than a hundred high-profile criminals within one week. How did you come to such a conclusion and so quickly?
"You were only seventeen at the time, attending high school, and at the top of your class no less. Everyday you would go to school, then cram school, and then you would walk back home.
"I know you weren't doing all those things because you felt pressured by your parents or anyone around you. Those were things you wanted to do.
"You like to be the best, and you like to show the people around you how much better you are than them. And that egotistical personality of yours certainly must have helped in your transformation, but being proud does not necessarily mean that you are a mass-murder."
L quietly sat and waited for something, anything, but the silence between them only grew thicker.
"You were normal once, Raito -- how did you end up like this?" L stared at him and thought it was one thing to catch Raito, but it was something entirely else to understand him. Anomaly didn't even come close to describing this person and what lengths he had gone to put his ideals into effect.
To throw everything away in the blink of an eye, to toss an honest and comfortable -- and to sum it up -- perfect life to the wayside, and to then suddenly champion a cause that was so dangerous and so morally wrong that you were wanted by every national government, but pursued by none.
L was having significant doubts as to whether Raito Yagami was as perfectly sane as he had thought.
All signs really did seem to point to lunacy.
But if only things were as simply, L thought, and stared at Raito. If Raito were indeed insane, then at least L would have a concrete answer to explain all the horrible things he had done.
No. Raito wasn't insane. He was far too calculating and level-headed to be thought as such.
"From total normalcy," L said, sticking one index finger up, "to the extreme side of the criminal spectrum," and then the other pointer finger went up as well. "Your past self and your present self are like two completely different people – and yet you were able to transition so smoothly from one," L put his two index fingers together, "to the other.
"I could say that the power of that notebook was the thing that corrupted you. However, it does not have a conscience, it has no free will, it cannot help who its owner is, and in the end, it cannot influence that person.
"No, the real evil one here…" L concluded, "…is you, Raito. No one forced you to use it; no one forced you to kill innocent people. That was your choice."
L lingered to a stop, pondering on how indifferent Raito appeared to be right now.
"Maybe the only unfortunate aspect of this case was that you happened to be cursed with an abnormally resilient mentality. A person who's so psychologically numb, or can be whenever he chooses to be, like flipping on a light switch," L said, chewing pensively on his thumb.
"Of course, it's a result of your intelligence and the notion that you cannot be caught because of that intelligence that makes you this way, but even intelligence as much as it is a factor cannot stop a person from feeling certain things."
L let his thumb slip from his mouth.
"Like sadness or regret, even you must have felt something remotely close to this when you first realized you killed someone. Did it trouble you that you might have to kill your father one day if things did not go as planned? I know it must have, but the thing that bothers me most about this is that you would be troubled, but you would still kill him. That makes you even more inhuman, Raito, because you know exactly what you're doing, in contrast to if you really were insane.
"Although, to be honest with you," L admitted, "I've only seen this kind of hardened nerve in psychopaths and crazed war veterans."
Raito's eyebrows bunched together, and he made a soft sound, like he was annoyed. "God, you're irritating. If you're going to continue on like this then please put me out of my misery and just bring in your hired-help."
L scratched the side of his calf. "It is not much fun for me when I throw conjectures around and they echo back at me without an answer. Plus I have never known you to keep quiet for anything. You were always quite the chatter-box," L said, one hand suddenly mimicking the motions of a mouth. "Is your silence a sign that you acknowledge your guilt?"
"Who exactly is the chatter-box here?" Raito replied tartly. "If you want me to speak so badly then how about we talk about something that I can at least understand?"
L rubbed his head. "And what would that be?"
"How about how much of a head-case you are."
"That conversation will not be a very long one," L stated and touched his finger to a top lip that was suddenly curving upward. "I would rather talk about the expression you had on your face when I called you out on that Kanto broadcast. I bet it was not a pleasant one."
"Keep talking," Raito snapped, "because it's the only thing you've ever been able to do to me."
"Not the only thing I've ever been able to do to you, Raito-kun," L said and smiled.
"Do you really want to bring that up now?" Raito asked and nodded over at two-way mirror, "Because it doesn't really reflect you at your most professional – not that that says much."
L titled to his right. "I have nothing to hide."
Raito smirked at that. "So it's totally fine to say you slept with me, your prime suspect, not once, but for practically two months?"
L tilted to the left. "It is the truth, so I will not deny my actions."
Raito rolled his eyes. "But knowing you, you must have conveniently left that part out in whatever record you've kept of this case."
L did not say anything, and Raito chuckled. "Did you grow forgetful all of sudden? That's not like you at all."
L tapped a finger on his knee. "My apologies Raito-kun, I am sorry that I did not know what a conniving little jezebel you were."
"Conniving? All I did was open my heart to you."
"It wasn't your heart you opened," L muttered before he could stop himself. He was past irritated with how this was going, and he was even more irritated that he was letting it happen in front of the two men he had hired.
"What's the difference? You enjoyed it."
L stared vexingly at the wall behind Raito.
"Are you miffed at me because you think I faked it?
"Don't worry," Raito said, continuing to provoke him, "I really did enjoy fucking you."
There was a limit to how much of Raito's crap he could handle in one session.
"For the Great Detective who's so exacting about his reputation, you sure don't mind falling on your back for --"
L turned in his wheelchair and headed out of the room before he could be insulted anymore. But unfortunately for him there were people waiting outside, ready to greet him, particularly Tailor with his mouth open.
"I'm not in a good mood right now, so we can have this conversation later," L said curtly before whatever question was about to come flying out at him. He abruptly turned towards the door that would let him out of the surveillance area and then --
"Oh," L looked up, as if he were forgetting something, and then turned in the doctor's direction.
"I am giving you permission to hit him in the face now."
1. In Canto XVI of Dante's Inferno, Dante and Virgil ride Geryon to descend into the Eighth Circle of Hell.
2. Geryon – "…in classical myth, he is a 3-bodied giant who ruled Spain and was slain by Hercules. In the Inferno, he is the personification of Fraud, a giant with 'the face of an honest man and a body that ends in a scorpion's stinger'".
3. The Eighth Circle of Hell punishes those guilty of Conscious fraud or treachery. This circle is made up of ten stone ravines called "malebolge" (Evil pockets), and across each ditch is an arching bridge. I chose St. Petersburg, Russia as the setting for this arc because it's also known as the "City of 300 bridges." Not to mention it's as cold as a witch's tit and I believe this perfectly reflects the last stage of Dante's Hell.
4. The first ravine of the Eighth Circle is where the Seducers and Panderers are kept. They are made to walk in opposite directions while demons whip them.
5. Jason was a mythical Greek hero who assembled a group together (the Argonauts) to search for the Golden Fleece. Within the eighth circle he is seen as the worst of the seducers because he accepts the aid of a witch named Medea to help him attain the Fleece, but when it is finally secured, he casts her aside to marry Creusa, daughter of the King of Corinth.