Chapter 8: The Message
Light was curled up on his side like a cat, fast asleep, or at least doing an inordinately good impression of it. L, however, was not remotely tired, having slept half the day away. Of course, he knew he should try and sleep now in order to synchronise his and Light's body clocks, but the task was akin to asking him to devour a large portion of vegetable stir-fry; it was never going to happen.
After sitting in the dim room for about twenty minutes listening to the slow, regular breaths of his companion, L gave in and powered up his laptop. Reaching carefully over to the nightstand, he plucked the file Matt had provided from its resting place, and proceeded to leaf through it. Although he was unfamiliar with television, not actually owning one himself, the codes seemed fairly straightforward, reassuringly similar to computer encryptions, and he was confident that he could manage with minimal difficulty to tap into the network and broadcast his and Light's own message.
It had been interesting, preparing and planning the broadcast with Light. Light had more of an eye for detail than L did, and an unexpectedly artistic streak, so his contribution had been invaluable. He was also frighteningly good at planning ahead, anticipating every eventuality, exploring each possibility with impossible accuracy. L was better able to think on the spot, however, and had a latent ability for throwing people off, wrong-footing them in order to gain the advantage. Both of them combined, L admitted, made a formidable team. But with somebody like Light, it was always a good idea to stay one step ahead. By the dim glow of the computer screen, L worked furiously until dawn came, making sure that his own plans were primed to perfection, ready to drop into place before Light could make his move. Only when everything was flawless did he allow himself to fall into heavy slumber.
At the office the next day, the looks he received from Aizawa were filled with even more contempt and disgust than usual, but L had adopted Light's habit of thinking ahead, and had prepared from home seventeen separate witness lists for the latest cases on the database for Aizawa to check over; that would take him out of the office for at least the next few days, leaving L free to do whatever he pleased, which was mostly tracking Light's movements.
Light had not noticed the tracking programme L had set into his phone, as L had expected. Drawing out his own phone and tapping into the programme, everything Light had done that morning, and his current actions, were listed on L's screen. The first number Light had called, it transpired, belonged to a furniture delivery store; Light was buying a television set for the apartment, something L himself had considered in light of their plans. Useful, not incriminating. The second thing Light had done was call Mello; the call had lasted nineteen seconds, so presumable Mello had not been amused at being called at nine fifteen in the morning.
L wondered for a brief moment whether he ought to be tracking Light. It was underhand, to be sure, and with someone like Light, there was no guarantee that he would not be discovered. But Light had lured him into this partnership with the hook of his past. It had been a gamble to use L when L was perfectly capable of turning the tables on him. Surely, it was up to L to outwit him and discover his past by any means necessary to protect his own interests. Unfortunately, this decision did not do him much good, since this seemed to be the limit of Light's activities. Perhaps the young crook had anticipated L's interference and was being very careful whom he called just in case L did exactly what he was doing. But really, this tap was at this stage merely a precaution; L knew enough not to need any further confirmation of Light's activities. Nevertheless, there was still one thing left to check up, and Light had given him the perfect means to check it. Stuffing his feet into his ragged shoes, L left the office to pay a visit to an old friend.
Since Aizawa was still out of the office when he returned, L took the opportunity to fall asleep on his desk, using his case files as a pillow and drool-catcher. He woke promptly at six, at which point he walked out with the dignity of a man with a hard day's work behind him. Unfortunately, the stifled snigger and hushed whisper from the secretary bruised this impression a little. The fact that he returned home to Light, clad in an apron L had not known he owned, and baking cookies in a warm, cinnamon-scented kitchen, cheered him considerably, however.
"I thought we could celebrate in advance," Light smiled warmly; it lit up his chocolate-coloured eyes with genuine feeling, and even the suspicious L did not think that the boy could act that well. He was genuinely happy, and seemed to harbour no doubts or suspicions about L's trustworthiness, as far as he could tell. If only L could feel the same way, this might even work out. He felt a little sad, almost nostalgic, knowing what hung between them, knowing that the smiles and the cookies meant nothing to Light.
"Although cookies are always acceptable, Light-kun, I feel it is a little early to be relaxing," he sighed. "We have only an hour in which to prepare."
"It's already set up," Light assured him. "All we need is to sit back and watch it unfold."
"It is also necessary to be prepared for the failure and to be alert at all times so that we may make a split-second response," L reminded him. "Of course the immediate access to home-baked cookies might aid this process considerably, so perhaps I may treat this as exceptional foresight on your part. However, it is important to stay focused."
"I know that," Light nodded emphatically. "But aren't you just a little excited? Tonight we're going to change the world."
L could not help but feel the same beguiling feeling of unfamiliar somethingworking its way through his own veins, Light's beaming face kindling the futile hope that the pleasure was derived from working with him, being with him, but he was so used to being used, disliked, betrayed, that he was able to push it to one side, even in the face of Light's sparkling eyes and wide smile. It was not in his nature to do anything else, to try to persuade Light to forget whatever else he was trying to achieve and be with him forever as the gods of justice. Not even if he wanted to.
"Take nothing for granted," he warned.
Although L was almost immune to anticipation, at least in comparison to Light, who was practically bouncing up and down in the seat before the shiny new television, even he was entirely absorbed as the sitcom flickered and failed on the screen to be replaced with the elegant lettering Light had created spelling out the start of their message:
Welcome to the new world
He caught Light's eye for a split second and smiled at the young man. Let him enjoy the moment.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is the first message to you from the society which promises you the safety and security of which you have long been deprived, at no more cost than your support and favour.
The writing on the screen lingered for a few moments, giving time for the message to sink in, before it faded out professionally, to be replaced with carefully cut footage collected by Mello's surveillance, showing mugshots of several criminals the two of them had researched, and short clips of their shady progress through life. Played over this was the electronically altered voice of L:
"Ladies and gentlemen, each and every one of these men and women walk free on the street to carry on their criminal activities. Every face you see has robbed, raped, abused or murdered, and they are allowed to walk free by the police of this country and of this world, despite this video evidence of their continued guilt. We do not believe that this constitutes justice, and we believe something must be done about it, for the sake of your security, and to make the world a cleaner, juster place.
"Criminals of this world, we now speak to you: your deviance from the law and your disrespect to humanity will no longer be tolerated. We ask you now; cease your illegal activities and hand yourselves over to the police, or we will judge you. Each on you will individually be judged, and offered a choice."
At this point, the footage ended, and more words appeared on the screen as L continued to speak.
You will receive a choice: to surrender your liberty, or to lose your life. This is the price of crime.
As the words hovered on the screen, L's modified voice spoke coolly to the populace.
"We believe in the police's methods of serving justice. We do not wish to terminate the life of any human being. But we will not compromise. Every man or woman who commits an act of atrocity against the world will be brought to justice. If any refuse to bow to the system of justice, their life will be forfeit. Make no mistake; if you are guilty, we will hunt you down. Criminals, you have one week to hand yourselves over to the law enforcers of your city. This goes for all parts of this country, where we as of today hold ultimate jurisdiction. This is your warning, and it will be spread by tonight over every billboard in every city across the country. Ignorance is no excuse.
"If you continue to act in a way which contravenes the law, and you refuse to cease your activities or report to the police, we will consider your choice made, and your life forfeit. Be it a day, a week, even a year, we will find you.
"Don't you believe us?"
The words faded once again, and the man chosen as an example, Madarame Kamawa, appeared on the screen, his name hovering underneath the crystal clear footage of Kamawa's mean, weasely face as he hurled silent verbal abuse at a cowering victim; the footage was accompanied by a date. The date read three days ago.
"Madarame Kamawa, indisputably guilty of seven murders in the last four years, cleared by the courts despite this evidence, and under our extensive surveillance guilty of fourteen other serious crimes. Today, he was offered the choice we now extend to every criminal throughout Japan. He chose death. Regrettable though it is, he stands as a warning to others.
"We are an extensive and organised network committed to justice. We do not want to kill, but we are willing to do so in order to save lives. If you are a murderer, rapist, domestic abuser, paedophile or guilty of any other major crime, we are watching you, and you have one week to turn yourselves in or cease criminal activity. If you do not, your life is forfeit. Make no mistake, we have the power and the will to find you and cleanse this world of your presence."
L's voice paused as in the live footage, which L was monitoring as it happened, Madarame's brief, humane death played out to perfection. Several moments of silence followed, in which L imagined every person in Japan frozen in horror by what they had just witnessed, unable to take it in. No doubt at this point their sympathy would be going out to the man they had just killed.
"Ladies and gentlemen, do not be shocked by what you have just witnessed. We do not intend to harm the innocent, but to protect you from the ugliness in this world. We want to listen to you, and have opened a forum for you to post your opinions. You will not be a target for disagreeing with our ideals, but please, we invite you to take a look at our website. On it you will find footage taken in the last month of Madarame's many crimes. We hope that you will agree the world is a better place without him, and remember; he had a choice, as does everyone. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Seigi. Thank you for your time, and remember; we are watching out for your safety.
As the departing message ended, words appeared for ten long seconds on the screen:
To the rest of you: you have one week.
With a flicker, the sitcom resumed, its canned laughter an eerie and misplaced sound after the message which was even now available to access online thanks to Matt and L's unrelenting work on hacking the net to establish a webpage for Seigi. Type the word into any search engine, and it appeared right at the top.
"Well Light-kun," L said to his companion, whose face was a mask of triumph and glee. "The cat is now decisively amongst the pigeons. I hope the ratio of birds to beast falls in our favour, or we may as well report ourselves bright and early to bloody Aizawa for sheer hypocrisy, and provide the handcuffs ourselves. Other than that, I think it went rather well, don't you?"