Disclaimer: My name is King, I dumped Ichigo and moved on to GrimmUlqui (still banging Bleach), and I do not own Death Note.
Devil's Trill
III: Devil's Trill
CH16
Three Wishes - pt. 1
"D-dad?"
The chief said nothing as he abused the speedlimit across the dirtroad.
Light managed to catch a glimpse of the driver's side mirrors as the van, much like the black vans, had no back window. A few people on bikes were following them in the far distance, and they were quickly gaining on them despite the gap.
And then they were gone.
Their van turned into some kind of underground tunnel that forked into three and then into another three.
Just how far from home were they..?
"I believe we shook them off," Ryuzaki noted thoughtfully, for some reason not letting go of Light's shoulder, and Light noticed he was still clinging to Ryuzaki's sleeve.
He had a very bad feeling.
So did Ryuzaki.
"Thank you for your help, Yagami-san," the man said evenly, as if testing the water. The chief said nothing.
"Yeah, t-thanks dad?"
"You shut your mouth, young man," his father finally said, his voice shaking.
Light swallowed hard and cowered into Ryuzaki.
It just wasn't cool.
Important shit like this wasn't supposed to slip though the obvious personality gaps of a person as awesome as him.
Shit, maybe Mels was right, maybe he shouldn't've been totally slacking on the whole 'Matt get your shit together, it's going down tomorrow!', and maybe, just maybe, Matt considered blaming the stupid freankin' COD4 for the whole freakin' mess-up.
Maybe it were the Gods of COD, being pissed off at him for discrediting COD5 like he had on that gaming forum once?
...'cause a person as awesome as him wasn't supposed to be blamed by default. It was definitely the Xbox gods.
Mels didn't think so. Actually...
In all respect to Xbox gods, Matt was fooling himself.
It was definitely his fault.
He knew he should've been more careful, he knew he should've been paying more attention to Misora Naomi's equipment of choice. And now the whole thing was looking more and more screwed.
Hell. He kinda knew that at the back of his mind, that eerie bad feeling he's been having about the whole thing should've been the first freakin' neon flashing sign flashing before his freakin' dumb ass... for him to ignore.
Damn.
But by the time he'd figured to check all private purchase logs instead of just the logs of shit taken out of the armory, L and his cute boyfriend were already loaded into one of those stupid-lookin' black vans and sent cruising around Japan.
So L went off-radar before Matt even knew there was something he should've really told the creepy guy beforehand.
Well, technically he was still on radar, with those damn ankle-band-tracker-shits that got Matt worried in the first place, but L couldn't be contacted.
And that was the problem.
Matt told L those things were just fine, nothing to worry about.
And that was the problem.
And the damn fucking things were a fucking major concern. They would've been fine if this was any other stupid mission because L, as, Matt rolled his eyes at this, mass-murderer slash creeper slash, you know, fucking professional, could be trusted to not fuck up and open his trap and tell his boyfriend shit he shouldn't be telling him 'till they were safely in Alaska or something.
Far away where the damn fuckin' ankle bands Matt told L were just tracking devices shouldn't transmit every fucking word straight to freakin' FBI.
That's right.
Fucking sound transmitters.
How Matt missed the fucking bugs, he didn't know.
How Mello didn't turn him into a bloody splatter on the carpet when he'd told him, he didn't know either, but this was a result, Matt was on his bike, racing to support the ambush team in hopes that he could briefly warn L or something.
'Cause it was the best he could do at this point.
Mello, staying behind to try to screw the shit up some for the FBI couldn't be trusted with an ambush, let alone let into a fucking building that was set to blow up. Matt knew how Mels was.
So it was pretty much up to him.
Ambush team at his side was ready and the black van was approaching when Matt raced towards them on his Hurley, mud splattering all over the the shiny bodywork.
He dropped the bike and ran towards them and the team leader recognized him; but the van was so close to where he was supposed to shoot it, he just nearly made it. So Matt, being Matt, as good as man-handled the sniper and took his... her? Hot. Her rifle.
Respawn in 10 seconds.
Create a class M40A, no-attachment without stupid ACOG, no camo, secondary set to Desert Eagle.
Special – stun grenade...
Eh… he didn't need anything else. No time.
LT to aim, hold down LS to hold breath, pull the RT to fire.
Misora Naomi had expected an ambush. She sacrificed that driver 'cause of the vulnerable driver's cabin she put on that van.
Blame her. That done and over with, he slapped his bike helmet back on for at least some protection.
The van with a dead driver, still ridiculously far away, cruised to a lazy stop in up-hill drive.
It was going down.
Matt felt giddy.
Fun shit; he was doing fun shit instead of being stuffed into computer chair and made to hack useless crap. But then again, after this, he'll just chill the fuck out with some... COD4.
The irony.
If only that increasingly huge neon flashing bad feeling sign didn't grow like it was on steroids or something.
Tsk. They lost a man… well, the sniper woman actually. Matt easily aimed for the neck and took out her shooter, secretly praising himself 'cause everyone else was aiming for legs 'cause of the bulletproof vests and helmets.
Matt wasn't wearing one; hell he bet his pants weren't even zipped cause Mello just yanked him off the couch when he'd found out about sound transmitters, threw pants and bike keys at his face and kicked him out. At least he didn't have to kill off a freakin' SWAT team in his underwear, now that'd be embarrassing.
At least Mels didn't get too involved.
He saw L; though L and Tsuki were wearing the exact same garb as their protection squad, L was easy to spot 'cause Matt knew what to look for, and little Tsuki caught in crossfire looked ready to puke rainbows.
They were moving the direction away from the fire and towards the driver's cabin.
Matt cursed.
L didn't see him.
Maybe if L at least saw Matt there, he'd know something was wrong.
Hastily, he threw off his bike helmet and followed them around the van; the fake-brunette was now reaching into the driver's cabin, so Matt thought of the smartest thing, like, ever.
Ambush team was told not to fucking shoot the cute boyfriend at risk of losing their left nut (according to L). So Matt aimed and shot very close to the cute boyfriend.
Maybe that'll get L's attention.
It didn't.
The creep just wrestled the kid out of the cabin and dragged him somewhere.
Matt cursed.
Chunks of metal were still flying around and helmet-less, Matt rolled and shoot somebody's leg. The man fell to his knee and Matt shot that too, only to find himself saved by one of his own.
And then a bullet nicked his ear.
Bad.
Too close to home… and L could be blabbering something very private at that very moment.
Fake back-up wasn't due for another five minutes, in theory Matt had time.
Shoot than aim, drop, run... Matt lost sight of them for a second, no more, and that was all it took.
A police van, not a fake SWAT van they're prepared, sped towards the two and the sight of L hastily shoving Tsuki into the van fueled Matt's bad feeling.
L should've waited, should've not went in; Matt liked to think he knew the creep enough to consider him professional and not flip off plans for...
L was getting the boyfriend out of danger 'cause Matt shot at him.
Fuck.
He grabbed one of the get-away bikes and followed the van, hoping L would at least get a glimpse of Matt's face and fuckin'... realize shit was up.
For a split second, wide and scared brown eyes of the boyfriend locked with Matt's though the rearview window.
L still didn't see him.
Van disappeared into the tunnel and two turns later took a turn into a foot-deep flooded tunnel, the one the fake SWAT van wasn't supposed to take
Matt swore he'll never ever as much as touch COD4 again, and turned to the other tunnel.
Fuckin' police van just took a shortcut Matt couldn't take.
Racing on a bike that wasn't his with speed slapping in the face, he realized the attached radio was screaming code shit in Mello's distinct angry voice.
He picked it up and gave the code for 'fuck'.
The worst part was that this meant Mello was with the fake SWAT team, only ten minutes or so away from this whole fuckin' shitstorm.
Misora Naomi's plan wasn't the most original one, but in theory it worked just as well as L's.
Just drive around in black vans.
If Ryuzaki Rue was L, he'd make his move.
If Ryuzaki Rue wasn't L, L would make his move.
If L had no idea what the hell was going on, surely he'd be alerted that something was definitely up with the overwhelming amounts of black vans aimlessly driving around.
Have Soichiro Yagami follow the van harboring his son, as soon as something turned fishy, pick up the boys and threaten murder-suicide in the name of fatherly pride. Or something like that. The NPA chief, without a doubt, had a bone or ten to pick with his son and his boyfriend.
Light knew all this.
After all, it was his idea...
No.
The woman had plans beyond that point, none of them were necessary though.
Ryuzaki didn't- Ryuzaki.
Ryuzaki!
Ryuzaki, damn it! Ryuzaki, Ryuzaki, Ryuzakiryuzakiryuzakiryuzaki!
Light closed his eyes and composed himself before allowing any further thinking.
Ryuzaki didn't take the bait.
He didn't confess to being L, or shoot Soichiro with a gun he had stashed up somewhere, or hid behind Light as the angry chief fired a fake round.
Instead, Ryuzaki focused on the deathly stare of the officer in fear and shock before his eyes drifted away from the man to stare into the drivers' window like Death itself just landed on the dashboard, and with a face contused in horror pointed and screamed, "WATCH OUT, DEER!"
Light watched as his father actually turned back, gun vulnerably open for a grab, and it took only a split moment: with an obscene capoeirra move Ryuzaki had knocked the chief hard enough for him to hit the forehead against the steering wheel and the car honked.
A shudder tore though his body as he realized Soichiro actually pulled the trigger and thankfully missed because the round that the gun released was very much a real bullet.
Light grabbed the gun and hid under his belt, and before he could think how much his father must have hated him to actually use live bullets instead of rubber ones, Ryuzaki dragged him out of the abandoned van towards something that looked vaguely like a construction site.
---
L's plan was cliché and surprisingly effective in theory.
Set up an ambush in close proximity to the Vanishing Point.
Replace back-up SWAT team that would come to their rescue with allies; have the real SWAT team hidden away at the vanishing point.
Either have the fake SWAT team pick them up, or drag Light back into the shot-up van and 'escape'.
Either of two options would lead to Vanishing Point.
From there on, it would be simple.
Blow up the Vanishing Point (that happened to be an abandoned warehouse) with real SWAT, some kidnapped mafia Mello had at his disposal, and of course two 5'10 male bodies.
Then, make a day for some underpaid autopsy technician from that morgue that really needed a cake stand.
L had killed them all, end of his and Light's little adventure.
Hello isolated house, somewhere far away, with a large bed and submissive lover.
Or whatever Light wanted to be, L didn't really care; as long as Light was lying next to him in bed, the brunette could be anything he damn well pleased.
And the plan sort of worked; L sort of expected sabotage, not by Light's father of all people, but he expected something, and it was convenient that the man had taken the same route L planned on taking...
L was almost tempted to consider it too convenient to be a coincidence...
But it was a coincidence.
Secretly, L hoped he hadn't knocked the man out too hard to cause any permanent damage.
He also hoped he'd hit him hard enough for the man to stay unconscious.
They were a little early.
A lot early.
The original SWAT team was not-yet delivered (though L was sure the two unfortunate 5'10 males were tucked away somewhere between the wall skeletons, concrete blocks, dust and graffiti).
Mello and his people weren't anywhere close, and though it slightly bothered L to sit around in with live explosives practically under his feet, it was all he could really do.
Fortunately, L and Patience got along splendidly.
L took a note of Light, exhausted from running and dodging rubble and empty beer cans, leaning against a beam. His lips were parted and soft gasps and puffs exaggerated his trembling.
He looked... cute.
L curled his toes in delight, a jolt of happiness shooting down his spine and into his groin.
Light was... a trophy.
When the brunette had became one, L didn't know, but at the climax of their adventure Light reminded L of a trophy, something shiny and polished, but with greasy fingerprints all over it: something that took sweat, blood and hell to acquire.
--
The man next to him looked too calm for a man who was nearly shot to death by a father with vendetta.
But Light didn't mind.
He watched from the corner of his eye as Ryuzaki lowered himself against the large concrete column and allowed his body to slide along the surface to land on his butt and tug his knees under his chin.
He watched Ryuzaki watching him.
It was a long run along the floors and staircases and they've gotten as far as they would. The building wasn't a tall one, about five floors away from the ground, and with each floor of skeleton walls and abandoned stacks of immovable wood, the beer cans, garbage and blankets decreased: sick homeless or drunk punks didn't generally climb ten sets of stairs.
There was still junk here, on the last floor, but not much and even the graffiti looked more mature and less drunk up here.
Light could feel the cold breeze tour lazily between the walls from the non-existent side of the building.
He as he gained his breath, he watched his tracking ankle band flash red indicating that yes, closest SWAT was about to get them.
If the NPA chief didn't get them first.
"Why the hell did he have a live gun." Light droned it; it was a statement.
Ryuzaki didn't look surprised at all.
"What was he supposed to do, Raito-kun?"
"Well..." Ryuzaki obviously knew. So much for the plan, "that, more or less. He wasn't supposed to have a live gun."
"For believability, perhaps?"
"The fucking one we used in the rehearsal was just fine, trust me." Light felt a sour look twisting his features. The rehearsal of today was not a pleasant memory, not with his father's eerie eyes staring at him as he fake-shot him.
Something was wrong then, Light should've known.
Hah, he must've looked like crap because Ryuzaki was eyeing him with concern, and he probably didn't want to say what he needed to.
"You know your father," the man said cautiously, dropping the 'Raito-kun' for the time being, "would he follow us?"
Light swallowed and nodded bitterly.
"Alright. Don't be afraid, but this question is for our safety. What did you do with the gun?"
"I tossed it."
"Where?"
"Into that open sewer we passed so he couldn't find it."
"Hmm," was all Ryuzaki said, probably considering the chances of Soichiro Yagami having a spare gun and them having no gun at all.
"He has another gun," Light answered almost apologetically without Ryuzaki having to ask him.
"It's alright."
And so they sat there, whimsically staring into space wishing for one thing or another. Even the air seemed delicate, and one of the things Light wished for was that his father nor the SWAT team that were due in ten or so minutes didn't barge in to interrupt them.
It was nice.
Light rested his head on Ryuzaki's shoulder and eyed the bulletproof vest. At least they had those on.
"It's my fault," he declared in a low voice and Ryuzaki reached around his shoulders, stretched his legs out like a normal person, and pushed his head onto his lap, long, cold fingers messing up his hair. The place was windy and cold, and Light curled up slightly.
Ryuzaki assured him it wasn't.
"It is. I told them everything. I told them we were sleeping together. And she gets this... this stupid idea! I as good as told--dad – about us."
Ryuzaki ruffled his hair.
"Oh, well. I am as good as dead; surely he will be carrying an axe with him," he joked and Light laughed at the memory.
Things were... silly back then. Easier. Lighter.
The giant black cloud over their heads wasn't as black and giant back then. Nothing was that serious, either.
But now it was, it wasn't that long since they've met and Light managed to get himself into this whole... whole mess, and here they were, expecting sure death from enraged Soichiro Yagami, pissed off L, or Misora Naomi with a prison lock.
"I dragged you into this."
"I dragged myself into this, for Raito-kun. I do not regret it."
"Sure."
"I do not!"
Ryuzaki was tense, more than usually, and Light knew that the man was trying to put on a brave, assuring front. If L was to get here first, Ryuzaki would be the first to die.
"Well, since we're gonna die and all, I wish... hmm, to die happy."
"You want to die in an exciting way," Ryuzaki corrected but Light was too caught up in his own final confession-type ramblings to care what nonsense the odd man was going on about this time.
"...so!" Light continued, his mood jerking up as he sat up, "I want- no, I don't want Last Sex, stop looking at me like that, - I want... deep shit. From you. Love confession. Something."
Ryuzaki looked at him, finally releasing his shoulders to let him sit up properly. He stared at Light, eyes wide, childish and black, amused, admiring. Light stared back expectedly.
"I am in love with Raito-kun," L finally confessed.
Light smiled, cupped the man's cheeks and pecked him on the lips enthusiastically. Ryuzaki blinked and let a small laugh leave the back of his throat.
"Raito-kun should have really been taking his medication," he observed, amused. Light just brushed him off and stood up, almost dancing around the rubble on the floor.
"So..." Light said, with a smug, happy grin on his face as he thought of anything else he should get Ryuzaki to confess to. "I wish..."
A/N: Oh…
Light: Oh my...
L: Hmm...
A/N: That's right. This is kinda the moment of truth, actually. I'm unraveling lots of plot, ain't I? What the FUCK is going on? Anyone? I think I broke everyone's brain, it's all so confusing! ...but that's what a story looks like, 'cause it's... interesting. Or so I like to think... –shot-.
L: Thank you reviewers. THANK YOU! Miss King loves you so much that every time she gets one, she gets all wet. REVIEW HER! YOU NEED TO! PLEASE...! ...desu.
A/N: Yup, I love you so very much... I cry for you, my beautiful reviewers! Tell me how the story is going for you so far... magic button is hypnotizing... it is... click it...
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