A/N: I apologize for the wait. This chapter really kicked my ass, but it's the longest yet, so hurrah.
Love to all who read and reviewed last time around! We're over ten thousand hits, so thank you!
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. Not making any money off of this work.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Chapter 15
"You know the wallpaper speaks to me."
Light couldn't help raising his eyebrows at the declaration. Beyond didn't usually feign insanity. He didn't need to; the murderous tendencies were more than enough. Though how multiple acts of murder meant one was lacking in their mental facilities, that was a notion society held Light would never understand. It was the logical men that were always the most dangerous. Men like Beyond Birthday.
"Is this a recent development?" Light leaned backwards, humorously regarding Beyond through the bullet proof glass that separated him from the murderer.
B smiled softly, but he didn't answer the question. "I find the paper is a better conversationalist than you are."
"You don't like my company?"
"No," B snipped, crossing his shackled arms over his chest. The staff had removed the straightjacket on account of good behavior and B's promise to converse with one of the doctors twice a week. "You're more laid back now, at ease. That wasn't my intention. I'm surprised you came back."
Light regarded Beyond emotionlessly. He supposed he could see where the murderer was coming from. For years he'd been able to manipulate individuals through fear, requiring little else to get what he wanted out of the prison staff. Those techniques hadn't worked on Light so well. Beyond had expected a submissive mess of a human to return to him, but Light had only come back stronger. More accepting of Beyond. B would have to work harder at gaining a foothold in Light's psyche, revise his methods. But that could only happen once the murderer stopped pouting over his loss.
Light gave himself bonus points for that.
The graduate student had to wonder though, when had things transgressed out of a simple interview and into a game? When had Light begun to feel he needed the upper hand?
"I told you when we first met; I was prepared for the possibility of you harming me. It is entirely your own fault that your actions did not incur the response you desired," Light said, tone cutting. "I came back because, despite the incident that occurred a few days ago, and despite what I learned about you from it, there's still a lot I'd like to learn about you,"
B's mouth thinned into an indiscernible line of scarred tissue. "My favorite color is yellow, I like eating spaghetti every Thursday evening, straightjackets make me itch, I'm allergic to raspberries, and I think you're a jackass."
We'll somebody was a sore loser. Light smiled serenely and picked at the bullshit. "Symbolically yellow refers to one who is deceitful and even perhaps cowardly. Not at all what I picture of you."
B's eyes widened in pleasure and he accepted the challenge. "But if I am deceitful than how are you to know if your interpretation of me is correct. I could be acting."
"If you are it's out of fear," Light concluded. "You fear having to face the consequences of your failure in Los Angeles, but more than that you fear having to admit that you are less than what you desired to become."
"What if I don't know what I desire to become?" B questioned.
"You mean you don't know anymore," Light clarified.
B began drawing patterns over the steel table with his index finger, cuffs listlessly jangling from his wrist. "It's easy to lose sight of the bigger picture when one is only permitted to see the sky once a day."
Light's head tilted at that one. "Are you saying it isn't your desire to escape? Honestly I find myself flummoxed that you locked yourself back in your cell the other night."
"The only way I'm coming out of here is with your body over my shoulder."
Light took the promise in stride, not all concerned that it was exactly that. A promise. "And will I be alive or dead?"
B scoffed. "Do you want me to kill you?"
"Do you want to kill me?" Light returned evenly, the sarcasm of Beyond's question not even reaching him The younger male had become impervious to every taunt, largely unaffected and no longer biting.
Beyond felt as if he'd been made into the fish and Light the fisherman, mocking him with wriggling bait. The murderer did not appreciate it one bit. "It's not polite to respond to a question with another question. I'd have thought someone as polite and well brought up as you would know that."
Edging forward in his seat Light heaved an internal sigh of frustration. Beyond was drawing back again, curling into his shell and he was doing it just to spite Light. Resting his chin in his hand Light stared dully at the hunching form opposite him. Evasive maneuvers were a standard manipulation technique Light was more than familiar with. He used them all the time to doge the inquiries his mother sent regarding her other, more elusive child. Obviously the technique was used to move the conversation from a topic one party wished to hide. Light just wasn't sure if Beyond was attempting to hide something or if he was just screwing with him. The latter seemed the most viable option considering the serial killer's disposition. Either way, Light only had one card to play.
"You don't want to kill me."
B nodded his head yes, stretching out over the table like a cat, reaching towards the glass that separated him from Light. "Not if you're willing to die. That just wouldn't be much fun."
Light nodded, accepting the remark. "Good, because I'm not willing to die."
Beyond managed to brush his finger tips against the glass and he grinned like the pussy cat who stole Tweety Bird, but Light couldn't help but notice how the emotion didn't reach the man's eyes.
"You're not making any sense Sweetie Jam…"
"No, I think I am. You just want to hear me say it," Light concluded confidently. "I'd like to die by your hand. I'd like to die fighting against you."
Escape from Beyond Birthday was unheard of. Only two individuals had ever managed it. The first was Beyond himself, Light was now the second to claim the title. From that perspective it became pretty clear what Beyond wanted. He wanted to prove himself, to prove himself to Light.
B's smile widened, but still, his irises were dull. "I'll be sure to make it extra special. In fact, I have a plan."
Light sat up straighter. "A plan?"
"A new trick if you will," Beyond explained, waving his hand through the air like he was sticking it out the window of a cursing car. "It's been in the works for awhile. A memorial to another dear friend of mine."
Light couldn't help but scoff. "You actually have friends?" The image of B willingly spending time with another human, a human that wasn't a bleeding corpse, fitted strangely in Light's mind. The only reason the killer put up with Light was because they'd locked him in the room and chained him to a bolted down desk.
"Don't be nasty Sweetie Jam," B admonished. "Everybody has at least one friend."
"Why are you dedicating this plan of yours to your friend?"
"Because it was originally his idea." B settled back into his chair, twisting his wrists around the chains that kept him in place. A morosely nostalgic look which didn't quite fit on the murderer's face fell into his crimson eyes. "Just like me he was an unhappy child. Though he may have been happier if I hadn't tormented him so much. But he was more fun than all the other kiddies, him and little Mattie-Ma. They were the ones who actually tried to make me stop."
That was something Light's mind could more easily stomach, but the concept was still foreign. Serial killers generally didn't have friends, even during their childhoods. But then, Beyond Birthday had never conformed to the image of the world's average serial killer. He was just a highly disturbed individual with too much time on his hands. "He was your friend and yet you tormented him?"
B's head bobbed up and down mutedly, quickly shedding the memories of his unnamed friend and fixing his attention back on Light. "Just like I did to you."
"You maimed me with a stiletto." Light deadpanned. "That goes quite a ways beyond torment I think."
B's expression soured. "You're still mad about that? It's been a few days."
"I'm not mad," Light admitted honestly. "And if I was it's because I'm mad at myself. I was unable to defend myself. I don't like feeling weak. I only bring the matter up now because really, why a stiletto?"
B didn't even think his answer over. "The surgical equipment was locked in a steel cabinet and I was too lazy to pick the lock."
The unconcerned response washed over Light and the college student simple hummed, filing the information away for future reference. Outwardly Light was the perfect image of calm, he was collected. Internally, he didn't feel that different. this was perhaps the most withdrawn he'd observed Beyond, the lack of suggestive quips and taunting remarks triggered the analytical wheels comprising Light's mind into overdrive. If he didn't know any better he'd say Beyond was depressed. More than likely it had something to do with the aforementioned 'friend.'
"Tell me about this plan of yours." Light didn't bother hiding the fact that he was digging for answers. It would've been an insult to B's intelligence.
Some amount of animation tinged at the corners of B's mouth, but otherwise he remained laid out across the table like a broken doll. "I think you'll like it. It's all about justice."
"Justice for what?" Light asked, his curiosity genuine. What could a criminal possibly need to seek justice for?
Beyond's eyes darkened and Light felt a familiar chill walk leisurely down his spinal column. He'd seen that look the moment before B had stabbed him, the only thing it came with was searing pain and rivers of blood. The single word B uttered did nothing to quell the feelings of unease kindling in Light's stomach. "Children."
Honesty was the best policy, and nothing gave Beyond away as a liar. "Does it have anything to do with L?" Light asked.
If it was possible, B's visage turned even darker, black clouds of noxious gas turning over his mind. "Of course it does. As I told you before, L has everything to do with everything. He's at the center of it all. Some say he's the first victim. But really, I just hate him."
"Why?"
"Because of what he made my friend do. That was his entire fault." The serial killer turned over on the table so he was glaring at Light upside down. "Now I have to pick up the pieces. I need to help my darling."
Darling, Light wondered if B had a cute nickname for everyone he took an interest to. "I fail to see how you'll accomplish anything behind prison bars."
B smirked, the smile barring his teeth in a fascinating show of horrifying cruelty. "I think I'll manage just fine."
3B
Light rolled off the mattress, climbing to his feet and heading for the bathroom. Adaptable, was it concerning how able he was to mold himself into the role of any situation? He was adaptable. Now the nightmares came and he didn't wake, he didn't budge, sleep was restful again. At least as restful as it could be when Beyond Birthday was hammering at the door of his REM cycle.
The shower sprayed to life and Light stripped, depositing his wrinkled pajamas into the hamper off to the side as he stepped over the wall of the tub. Strange as it was to think, Beyond's opinion of L matched almost flawlessly with Naomi Misora's. Naomi who he'd received an irritating call from again the other night, right after he got off the phone with L. But she hadn't asked about his resignation like he expected. Instead she'd gone off about the super sleuth. Woman seemed to have pieced that portion of the puzzle together and chosen it as the best plan of attack.
If only he could feel as adverse to the Detective as she did.
Stepping out of the shower, Light commenced with his morning routine. Toweling dry, dental care, and getting dressed. People tended to assume he spent minutes on end prepping for the day, but he didn't, not anymore at least. The crisp, collar of his pinstriped dress shirt chaffed gently against the scar running over his collar bone, but he ignored it, securing the buttons in place and effectively hiding the scar from foreign eyes. He bypassed the mirror completely, refusing to take in his reflection, which he knew would be flawless, slinging a silk tie around his neck and grabbing his jacket before leaving the bedroom.
Descending the stairs, fingers expertly pulling the black silk tie into place he paused. "Does everyone know how to get into my apartment without my knowing?" Light groaned.
Hachirou laughed from his seat on the couch. "You should probably work on that. Someone might murder you in your sleep."
"Someone like you?"
The other Asian man shook his head, though a pleased grin had wormed over his face. "No, I'm more the hire a hit-man type. Coffee?" he held a cup, baring an all too familiar green logo, out for Light to take.
Amber eyes swept over the coffee table, noting the laptop, placed almost exactly where Light had left it the night before. "You've been looking through my computer files?" He took the latte from his sister's fiancé.
"Well it was easier than hacking the London police database myself," Hachirou admitted without remorse. "Remember, my sister who was the first victim."
"Forgive me, but you don't seem that torn up over her death." Light had only just met Hachirou in person, but Light couldn't help the nagging flaw in the man's actions. He seemed remorseless. There was nothing in Hachirou's face that suggested his sister had just been brutally murdered in a parking garage. Or maybe the man was just that good at hiding his emotions. Good enough to keep them from Light.
Hachirou seemed to follow Light's line of thought, but he smiled ruefully anyway. "I promise I'll be more into the hysterics as I drive an ice pick through the head of the bastard responsible for all this."
Standing over Hachirou, Light gently took a sip of his coffee, glancing thoughtfully out of the window across from him. "You really plan on killing him?"
"If I get the chance I'll take it."
But you wouldn't enjoy it, Light couldn't help but think, looking at the man who was about to marry his little sister. There was no chance Hachirou Junko would relish killing someone. No matter how good the man was at obscuring his emotions, developing a façade to hide his true self from the world behind, there was one aspect of the human mind Light could always identify. He knew the drive when he saw it, it'd been his job to identify that one little quirk that only certain individuals gave themselves over to. Murder had to be orchestrated, it wasn't a matter of chance. That was something Hachirou failed to realize, and it gave him away. For this, Light couldn't help but feel thankful.
His sister wasn't marrying a monster.
"Maybe I can help you find that chance." Light moved for the door, pulling his jacket on as he did. He didn't have to glance over his shoulder to know that Hachirou was following him.
"What's are you planning?"
"Not planning anything," Light said, pushing the down button on the escalator. "Just going to collect some evidence."
Hachirou didn't ask any more questions, instead he remained silent while Light hailed a cab and took them down to the London police homicide offices. The office itself wasn't more than a building in the downtown area, hardly discernable from any of the area's other office spaces. The words "Police Department" weren't even printed on the front of the building, they'd been etched into the glass of the double, front doors, font barely large enough to read from the sidewalk. It was simply a mass of concrete, slightly gothic in style, and utterly colorless.
The interior of the office reminded Light of the San Francisco FBI building. The halls were clean, cubicles neatly cluttered; it was only through glancing into a side office door that one could see the real mess. And, as with San Francisco, the reception desk was unmanned, which made getting in all the easier.
"You're just going to walk in?" Hachirou glanced around the room, attempting to be as covert as possible, which was difficult when one was illuminated by brighter than hell florescent lighting. Strangely however, no one seemed to care they were there.
Light nodded, completely at home with his surroundings, sure in his footsteps as he approached the back of the building. People did glance up at the two men as they wove their way around the office doors and cubicle spaces, or, specifically, people glanced at Light. The confidence Light exuded seemed to be pass enough for the London police officers and they nodded the twenty year old through the swinging, steel doors, Hachirou blending into his shadow, descending into the basement of the Homicide Offices.
The morgue wasn't cold, as Hachirou had figured it would be. He'd never seen a preserved body before, but his mind had likened a cadaver's residence to a meat freezer. The morgue, however, was comfortably warm and vacant. Eyes sweeping over the stainless steel drawers he glossed over the names, each cubby labeled with a case number which would forever be affixed to the deceased. One name stood out, chiming a bell of recognition in Hachirou's mind.
"The second victim?" he asked, not even waiting for a response from Light as he wrenched the steel drawer open. It rolled out with a vicious sound, squeaking and begging to be oiled.
The clatter of wheels approached the eight foot long slab and Hachirou grimaced at the sight of the medical instruments. Light ignored the distasteful expression. He snapped a pair of violently purple latex gloved on an unzipped the body bag while Hachirou flipped through the chart that had been filed inside the drawer with the body.
"Nothing new has been reported, at least on the body, since the reports you… borrowed… were filed," Hachirou observed scanning the report, trying his hardest not to look at the corpse Light had just unveiled.
There was a big difference between the photograph of a dead body and the actual body itself. There was also a difference between a fresh body and one that had had a few days to expire. While Hachirou seemed to be repulsed by both states of decomp, Light was more partial to the latter. In every case, the body that had time to decompose, to be pulled out of a ditch or unstrung from a noose, seven times out of ten it was murder. Murder meant a perfectly preserved body, blood replaced with embalming fluid, moisture sucked through a trocar via hydroseparator, leaving a cold, bacteria-less body prime for observation. No mess, just a canvas with obvious signs of trauma, the dregs of a killing formaldehyde couldn't wash away.
Had circumstances been different, Light could have found himself working in a homicide morgue, tracking killers down using only to bodies they left behind. God knew the dead were more cooperative than the living, and quieter too. Milky white skin barely moved, seemingly cemented in place, as Light ran his hand over the body. It was difficult to place the dead body before him as the same that he'd found swinging from a rope in the basement of a carpet shop, the two looked nothing alike. But the reality matched the photographs he'd taken.
Scratch marks ran jaggedly over the victim's neck, congruent with the thick bruise left over from the rope Beyond had used to cut off air flow. Light took in the damage quickly, his attention fixing to what he'd come to observe. Gently, his hands moved down the victim's right arm, where the gun had been found. Kneeling down he brought himself eye level with the woman's hand. Her nails were a mess, chipped and dislodged from her fingers in some places. It proved L's point, the gun was the centerpiece. In no way would the woman have sustained that type of damage to her fingernails if she'd been holding a gun, Beyond had placed it in her hand after she'd died.
"Turn her over."
Light glanced up, startled. "You already know what's there."
Hachirou shook his head. "I don't care, I want to see it."
A sigh puffed from Light's nostrils, but he complied with the request. It wouldn't hurt to look, prove what both of them already knew. The rational came swiftly through Light's mind as he gripped the woman's bare shoulders and hoisted her upper half off the table, gently folding her over her legs. She was practically weightless, a possible anorexic in life. Still, seeing the bruises, light scars framed in blossoming bursts of purple and blue, coiling into the alphabet's second letter, it made Light's own scar itch. It was as if the injury itself recognized the work of its owner and responded to it.
"These marks aren't good…"
Light didn't respond. Purple latex rubbed gently over the bruised letter 'B,' Light didn't know if he was inspecting it or simply acknowledging the potential damage.
Hachirou took a step closer to the slab, utterly emotionless. "He thinks things through. The man's definitely insane, but far from random. It amazes me that-"
"Can we not?" Light snapped, words cutting what Hachirou had been about to say in half. "You saw it in the report, we have confirmation now that the police didn't make any mistakes." He zipped the black vinyl back up, veiling the body before shoving it back into the wall and wiping the handle down. He'd already cleaned the tray and he didn't have to worry about Hachirou leaving fingerprints behind. Snapping the gloves off Light placed them in a ziplock bag and pocketed the material.
Now came the highly illegal part.
Mood swinging back into a more cordial position, Light nodded an apology, but that was it.
Taking it in stride, Hachirou did the only thing he could to comfort his fiancé's brother. "Is this where I come in?" Hachirou asked, a smile playing off his lips.
Light rolled his eyes, already striding towards the door, irritation gone. "And you'll get way too much enjoyment out of it."
"Just act your pretty self and I'm sure we'll be fine."
An elegant, auburn brow rose to meet the fringe of Light's bangs, but he just shook his head, leading the way out of the morgue. Now was not the time for someone to notice them, getting to the gun was bound to be more difficult than getting into the morgue was. No one worried about people stealing dead bodies, unregistered firearms on the other hand were another case entirely. The duo walked steadily through the police office. Forensics was a floor above and comprised of a dingy lab which took up the entire level.
Light paused, eyes scanning over the room, appraising the people working and calculating escape routes in the event he or Hachirou royally screwed up. Focus locking on a woman standing and speaking swiftly with what appeared to be a blood splatter analysis, Light nodded. With a breath be pushed the glass door into the lab space open, walked in, and shouted.
"THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" The effect was instantaneous. Immediately all working stopped as every pair of eyes in the room fell on Light. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE SO LONG?"
Hurriedly, a thin, brunette woman approached Light. Seemed he was right in thinking she'd be the only one with the balls to do so. "Sir, who - ?"
Light didn't let her get very far. "Who am I?" he snapped, turning a poignant glare at her. "I'm from the Japanese embassy. Apparently a family of Japanese citizens is having issues sending the body of one of their member's home."
The woman's eyes widened. "You should speak to someone in the morgue they - "
"There's no one down there!" Light seethed, eyes narrowing into slits, and he proceeded to butcher the poor woman verbally.
Amusement churned in Hachirou's eyes while he circled the room, Light's miniature CSI Drama turning attention away from his contamination of the ballistics desks. Or, table as it appeared. The piece of plywood sat to the right of the lab, set against the wall and sandwiched between two ceiling high filing cabinets, each of which was bolted to the floor, drawers secured with master locks. The only thing sitting on the table was a plastic sign baring the words "Out to Shoot."
At least someone loved their job.
Hoping the ballistics specialist wasn't out shooting the gun he was after, Hachirou removed the glass pipette and pair of tweezers he'd swiped from a neighboring desk. It felt nice getting back to basics, though the knowledge that nothing more than a cheap lock separated the public from confiscated fire arms didn't do much for Hachirou's opinion of the London police. It'd been years since he'd been a part of a con simple as this. As for the lock picking task, that was a menial chore, the challenge lay in going through each drawer until he found the gun without getting caught. He was completely reliant on Light's ability to captivate an audience here.
Leisure work was not an option and the threat made for a glorious drug.
The first lock clicked open, revealing the contents of the left cabinet's bottom drawer. Five boxes took up the space, each with a case number scrawled over in sharpie, but none with a number corresponding to the one Hachirou had found labeling Light's "borrowed" case files. Cabinet number two wasn't much better, nor was drawer three, and Light was getting hoarse. Briefly he glanced over his shoulder, a man had joined the argument, the woman now swearing violently while another man man punched numbers into a cell phone. Light seemed unperturbed as he screamed back as good as he got from the female police officer.
Gritting his teeth, he moved onto number four, glass and metal tinkering against each other to trip the lock. It clicked open easily and he swiftly pulled open the drawer. Easily, he disregarded the boxes too small to hold the 9mm Rami Compact Pistol as well as those too large to house the gun, which was all of them.
From the corner of his eye he saw someone leave the room, fretfully watching Light's distraction as he left. Time was running out.
And then his phone buzzed.
Blinking, he pulled the touch screen from his pocket and nearly cursed aloud when he saw the caller ID. Now was not the time, but he answered anyway, voice nothing more than a whisper and not even betraying the tension buzzing against his chest. The call only added to the thrill.
"Hello?"
He paused for a minute, listening to the voice on the other end as he moved through the boxes encaged within the fifth drawer. "Look" he hissed, "Now's not a good time. I'll call you back." And he hung up, eyes catching the warning look from Light in the reflection of the cabinet.
Moving quickly he crossed to the other set of drawers and began working on the bottom rung. It slid open easily and there it was. The case number messily printed over the cardboard box. Removing the box from the drawer he closed the drawer, setting the lock back in place, mentally assessing the weight. It was perfect. He didn't wait for Light, didn't even look at him, as he left the building. Light would catch up, waiting would've been suspicious.
From across the room Light watched Hachirou remove himself from the lab, box in hand. About damn, fucking time.
"I don't have time for this!" Light barked. "That body better be on the first flight back to Japan or you'll find yourselves at the center of an international incident!" With that he turned on his heel and all but ran from the room. Reinforcement's were on the way, with any luck he'd get out before they went up; slow response seemed to be a theme for this particular homicide office. Brushing past a group of bickering police agents and a man who appeared to be the station's Chief, Light quickened his pace.
Hachirou was waiting for him outside the station, cardboard box in hand, wearing an expression of satisfaction with a tinge of relief mixed in. "Everything alright?"
"I wouldn't be out here if it wasn't," Light said tersely. Law breaking wasn't one of his most favorite past times, even if it was in the name of a man who called himself 'Justice.' "But I'd be lying if I said they didn't deserve it."
"Hey, you were good! A natural really. And…I need to go."
Light faltered Hachirou's demeanor suddenly shifted, the glint that had been shining in the man's eyes quickly extinguishing into a haze of smoke. He looked like he was hallucinating the ghost of Christmas Past, assaulted with sour memories of a stocking full of coal.
Before he could ask what was wrong Hachirou shoved the box with the gun into Light's arms. "I'll call you later okay?" And he left, jogging across the street without any explanation.
Sayu would be getting a call about this.
Yet, before Light could even begin to theorize what mental illness his sister's fiancé was suffering from, something exploded against the wall beside his head. Rounding towards the owner of the now decimated projectile, Light gaped as he found himself facing the last person he'd been expecting to see.
"Uhh…" Was all his vocal chords could manage.
3B
Freedom, for some unfathomable reason, was not as great as Mello had previously thought it would be. Shackles no longer wound around his wrists, rubbing the skin raw; there was no large, industrial strength chain with links as big as his fist stretching between his arm and the marble flooring. It left the blonde feeling strangely empty, though the blistering skin on his wrist did provide some amount of comfort. And Mello didn't even want to contemplate how fucked up that thought sounded. He'd regressed into nothing more than Beyond's… mind fuck toy. He refused to admit to his newfound dependence on the murdering psycho. There was no such thing as Stockholm Syndrome.
Idly Mello slumped around the room, orbiting Beyond who sat cross legged in the center. The table was still in shards on the floor, the doors in much the same state despite the new addition of Mello's Idiots. They stood vigilant by the entrance, awaiting what, Mello had no friggen clue, but they were there for something, like the annoying gay dads he'd never had. He entertained the idea of screaming at them, channeling his frustration through his vocal chords and acting like an infant. Matt told him he was good at that. But the idea soured a minute after he thought it. Too much energy, energy he could save for kicking the crap out of his negligent kidnapper.
Oh wasn't that a nasty thought…
He was pissed at Beyond. Pissed that the murderer had had the audacity to do something like that. He'd been there, completely at the man's mercy, trapped beneath a creepy as hell gaze and strong forearms, and B had backed off. Not even, the man had fucking ignored him. It wrecked havoc on Mello's mind as if his brain were a Louisiana Street on Mardi Gras. It wasn't as if Mello wanted to be raped, he refused to be the victim here, that was the hotel staff, he was collateral. But would it have killed the freak to uphold his reputation and act the part of the disgusting pedophile he really was? What it have killed Beyond to give Mello a reason to hate him?
Something had to be up.
Mello stomped towards the center of the room, breaking rank from the loops he'd been pacing for the better part of ten hours. Yeah, he hadn't slept. Beyond, on the other hand, had taken to staring at the ceiling, thinking silently to himself. Despite his better judgment Mello had left the man to it, too freaked out by the earlier events that had taken placed to properly deter the murderer from whatever blood bathed fantasy he was concocting.
Now, however, now he was mad, and he acknowledged that anger by kicking Beyond in the shin. "What are you doing?"
Beyond slowly glanced up at Mello, eyes wider than a preschooler's. He knew the effect his current actions were having on his hostage, and it had B mentally licking his lips in anticipation. Shrugging his shoulders Beyond turned away from the blonde, placing his attention back onto the high school chemistry set he'd stolen a few days ago. "Preparing some stuff for the next time I kill you." He'd had to kill a teaching assistant to get his hands on the chemicals, but thus far that action hadn't been traced back to him. Not that you could trace a body you couldn't find. And either way, no high school should've been allowed to have the stuff B required, it was an adolescent accident waiting to happen. By removing temptation, and the hot teaching assistant, he was doing the hormonal tots a service.
Mello shivered at Beyond's words, but he sat opposite the older male anyway, tense stance practically demanding attention. Not that B was going to give him any.
Refusing to let silence slaughter his bad mood Mello opened his mouth. "You really need to stop referring to these murders as my own. It's disturbing," he commented more than slightly hypnotized by the stirring motion Beyond's hands were performing.
A tiny smile tinged Beyond's chapped lips. "But it's true. Every time I kill one of these people you die a little inside. Why is that I wonder?"
Mello grimaced. The bastard knew why. "Because you're killing them because of me!" Mello bore a mark of responsibility for every single one of them. Without Mello, B would have no reason to harm anyone.
"Oh the arrogance!" B cackled in delight, eyes shining with a pleasure that instantly set Mello in edge. "I like that, you get that from L no doubt. But alas, it's not because of you I kill these girls. It's because of what you represent. We've been over this Little Dear."
That they had, and yet it did nothing to lessen the sense of guilt, the sense that Mello was taking too long to end this, put his plan into action. It'd only been a matter of hours since he'd last been left alone by Beyond. Didn't the man have the decency to leave the stupid ballroom? It wasn't as if Mello himself could leave, not while B was watching.
"Oh look at that!" Beyond cooed like a five year old, watching as a liquid moved from one of B's flasks, through a thin tube, and dripped into another beaker.
"Etorphine hydrochloride," B breathed, crouching down and bringing himself eye level to the dripping liquid.
Mello couldn't help but stare in undignified horror, while at the same time, become intrigued. The man was a representation of Wammy's most fantastical failure. B was an icon of everything Mello could become if he went against the grain. Not to be misconstrued, Mello knew Beyond was an entity born from blood. There was no other way a creature like him could possibly exist. He'd heard the horror stories from Matt. But the notion didn't leave behind the fact that the system had fucked Beyond up something fierce. Now the man was fucking with the system by creating a drug eighty thousand times more powerful than morphine.
"You seem surprised."
Mello's scandalized expression volleyed back and forth between B and his chemistry set. "A – a – are you INSANE!" the blonde finally screamed.
B didn't even blink at the outburst. "Bit late to be asking me questions like that Little Dear. Besides, Dexter uses it, why can't I?" the man practically whined.
"Dexter?" Beyond was seriously drawing inspiration from a fictional serial killer?
B nodded enthusiastically.
"Screw you."
Beyond pouted, lying back down to watch his poison drip. "That's not very nice."
"You're not insane B," Mello grit. "You just want me to think you are. You're very aware of what you're doing."
"Which would be why I'm doing it, and I'm incredibly glad that you noticed." B rolled to his feel, literally tumbling sideways and over his head to come back into his, zen, frog manner of sitting before standing. "Now, if you'll excuse me Little Dear, I need to attend to some side business. Don't touch my drug!"
Well wasn't that more than a little too perfect.
Warily Mello moved to the ballroom's entrance. Peering across the threshold he glanced down the hallway but Beyond was already gone, though a faint cackle could be heard as the man no doubt skipped away. Shaking his head Mello turned to his Idiots Brigade and motioned them into the large room. "I don't know how much time we've got, so just tell me you got it all."
Idiot Number Two nodded furtively, pulling a stack of papers out from beneath his shirt. Mello didn't take much time thinking on how unhygienic it was for the man to stow the papers on his chest, but ignored the slight repulsion and grabbed the papers. Leafing through them he dropped to the floor aside Beyond's still dripping tranquilizer. The Idiots remained standing, looking over the blonde's shoulder.
"Huh, that was easier than I thought."
"What?" Number Two leaned over, eyes roaming across the telephone numbers the hotel phone line had recently connected with.
"Well he normally uses a cell phone," Mello explained, more to himself than to His Idiots, they were more furniture than anything else. "Not a record I'd have access to. It was a leap of faith to think he'd call from the hotel's land line. But he did, always the same number, at least once a day. Hell he's made calls without my even seeing him do so!"
"That's good isn't it?" Number One asked, somewhat concerned over Mello's lack of enthusiasm.
"Good if you think taking the poisoned milk from the cat killer is good," Mello retorted.
"You mean he knew you'd look."
Mello shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I'm calling." He turned to Number Two. "Give me your phone."
Number Two jerked back as if the request had slapped him across the face. "So you can call this bastard's accomplice? Fuck no."
"Language!" Mello snapped. "I'm an impressionable teenager. Now give me the stupid, fucking phone, one of you!"
"And what do you plan to say to whoever the hell answers?" Number Two demanded.
Number One, stepped back from the arguing duo, fishing through his pocket for the technological devise the captured teenager desired. It wouldn't appease his counterpart, but Number One's gut instinct told him that the kid was smart, smarter than he was at least. He needed to trust the kid's judgment, even if the boy seemed more volatile and reckless than level headed at times.
"Here," Number One stepped forward and handed Mello his phone. "It's disposable, I don't like signing contracts. So you should be fine to use it. I'll get some more."
Mello blinked, momentarily taken aback by the thirty-something-year-old's moment of common sense. And to think he'd almost thought both men lacked that survival instinct. Nodding in acceptance Mello took the phone, sliding it open and dialing the number that appeared on every page laid out before him. It was the only number that appeared on the pages. Setting the phone to his ear he listened to the dial tone and then the unmistakable ringing of a call connecting.
"Hello?"
Mello's breath hitched. "Darling?"
There was the sound of rustling, papers moving, and conversation Mello couldn't quite pick out, before the voice of Beyond's accomplice came back over the phone. "Now's not a good time. I'll call you back."
And the line went dead.
3B
L was surprised when his phone went off and the caller ID wasn't Light's, he couldn't help the slight wave of depression that moved over him when he found the voice on the other end wouldn't belong to his FBI agent. Not that he'd been waiting for Light to call. He could call the other man himself. He just didn't need to. Light was an asset, a tool, nothing beyond that.
Nodding and acting like he wasn't totally lying to himself, L glanced over the room. The number flashing over his phone was a land line, area code stated it was coming from somewhere in London, but it wasn't Watari, the man was in the kitchen. Glancing over his shoulder L checked on Near and Matt. Near was playing with a bunch of twelve sided dice, stacking them in a way that was geometrically impossible. Matt was on the computer, researching blunt force trauma. L didn't expect the boy to come up with much, but Near had insisted the pink haired teen do it. But neither of his wards were on the phone.
The cell buzzed again, silent, but on vibrate. L nibbled on his thumb, face scrunching in face of the unidentifiable phone number.
Hesitantly, he flipped the cell open, not entirely knowing what to expect on the other end. "Hello?"
"L!"
The Detective recognized the voice immediately and mentally scolded his mind for not having foreseen this occurrence. It was entirely in Beyond's character to pull a stunt as brazen as this. How B had acquired L's personal cell phone number on the other hand, that was a matter of minor concern.
He moved out of his swivel chair without a sound and walked to the bedroom. This would be a private conversation.
"Beyond." L spoke cordially, it wasn't very often he got the chance to converse with the criminal he was chasing. "Why are you calling me?"
Heavy breathing came over the receiver, long and drawn out, purposefully done. Beyond inhaled and exhaled five times before ceasing. "How was that L? Creepy enough?"
"You called to toy with me?" L didn't quite comprehend it. It was incredibly forward of B for the man to act as if he and L existed on a level playing field. Last L had checked, B was still trying to prove himself as a worthy opponent. And as far as L was concerned, the murderer wasn't, not yet. And he probably never would be, unless he killed Mello and disappeared before L could get to him.
No fucking way that would happen.
The sound of B's frown echoed over the line. "No, not to play. But I thought that's what I was supposed to do. I've been called your stalker more than plenty of times. Not too thrilled about that assessment of my character, I'm not actually obsessed with you personally. I just want to see you in a lot of pain. But, if I am your stalker then I need to make harassing phone calls where I breathe heavily over the line."
The honesty was painfully refreshing. That was, if B wasn't lying through his teeth, and L was pretty damn certain he was. With the exception of the pain part, it was only natural Beyond would want to see him in the throes of excruciating agony. L couldn't help but return the sentiment.
"What's your favorite color?" The Detective asked the first question that came to mind, and it was a stupid one. Designed to confuse and intrigue all at once. L grabbed his laptop and stalked out of the bedroom. The hotel suite was equipped with a laundry room which L had had Watari morph into a surveillance station. The room also had a state of the art tracking hub, not that L would have settled for anything less. Only drawback was that the room was more than a little cramped.
"My favorite color is yellow Mr. Twelve."
L paused as he crouched atop the washing machine, laptop balanced precariously atop his knees. "Mr. Twelve?"
"Don't question it, just enjoy it," B insisted. The taunt in the serial killers voice was poisonous and it seared down L's throat as if he'd just downed a barrel of Drain-O.
"My favorite color is red." L grappled with a chord, plugging one side of the mini USB adapter into his cell while the other was inserted into the laptop. Another plug connected the portable computer to the tracer.
"Red? That's interesting," B commented, the playful lilt to the man's voice growing more noxious with every syllable. "Strange choice for a man who lives behind a computer screen."
"You are referring to the notion that red represents an extrovert," L stated, not really paying attention to the conversation. He just needed to stall, get enough time to triangulate Beyond's signal.
"And you are an introvert," B concluded. He paused and L stopped typing, afraid of B hearing the unmistakable sound of fingers clacking against a keyboard. "So are you attracted to my Sweetie Jam yet?"
"Sweetie Jam?" L deadpanned. "That's a terrible nickname for Light Yagami." It made his stomach churn and L willed the computer to track Beyond faster. Light was his. Satellite images of London moved across the screen, Beyond was in the West End. Now he wanted a street.
B chuckled. "Then clearly you haven't licked him yet."
L's eyes narrowed but he didn't rise to the bait, instead he avoided it entirely. Two more minutes and he'd have a street address. "I have to say it's good to actually speak to you directly, though I'd rather we were doing this in person."
"Oh I don't think you're ready for that Mr. Twelve."
"I'm not?" Well that was insulting.
"Nope," B taunted, overjoyed, he seemed to sense L's displeasure, not that the Detective was doing much to hide it. "It takes a special person to deal with me," B stated mockingly, "a person with special skills. You don't have those skills yet. But I can give them to you."
The computer whirred onward, warming L's knees as it processed the signal, unaware of L's mounting impatience. "And how would you do that?"
"By giving you a little gift, crack Sweetie Jam open and I'll let you do with me as your dirty little mind pleases."
The monitor pinged with the sound of B's location, the corner of Regent and Mortimer. Mouth drawn in a line, L was out of the laundry room before he'd even realized he'd made the decision to pursue. Phone still pressed to his ear, Beyond's laughter spiraled around the Detective's eardrum as if the murderer knew precisely what L was doing. Already, the futility of his actions pressed against L's lungs, constricting them to puff out carbon dioxide and take in oxygen through sheer desperation alone. The chase had never been physical before, L'd never had to run to apprehend a criminal. The change was exciting, the gamble was tragic. He was going to lose.
But that didn't matter. L charged out of the hotel room, leaving a gaping Matt and a curious Near in his wake, Watari on his heels. The elderly man had some sixth sense, an L sense, he knew something was up, something relating to Beyond. Maybe because it was personal, because this was Beyond Birthday L was running after, letting the disquieting laughter lead him towards, that L didn't calculate, he just reacted and ran into the street.
Daylight assaulted his skin, chilly air prickling against his flesh while direct sunlight seared his retinas, but L ignored his protesting senses. He had a map of London ingrained into his brain alongside every other major city in the world. He knew where to go.
L didn't consider it a coincidence at all that the place he was residing in, Sanderson Hotel, was a corner away from Beyond's noted location. Maybe it was high time he changed hotels. But it made reaching the despicable bastard all the easier. He sprinted down the street. Watari was no longer following him; no doubt the man had decided on actually driving and would catch up with L when he could. The Detective dodged through the crowd, ignoring the glares and shrieks he was getting from pedestrians. He shoved through the crowd and turned off Wells Street and onto Mortimer, not even winded.
B could hear him breathing though, and hard as he tried to regulate the flow of oxygen, Beyond knew he was rushing. Probably made the damn fucker proud, the great L literally running after him, the idea just made L run faster. There was a three percent chance L would find B at the end of the street, the other side of that statistic had L banking on the fact that Beyond Birthday actually had a sense of self preservation. The latter notion had the Detective frowning, life would be easier if her could just run to the corner and kick the crap out of Beyond, but he knew it wasn't going to happen. It wasn't likely to happen. What he would find however, that held promise. A clue was worth the physical exertion.
The laughter stopped at the very same moment L halted, sending shiver's of annoyance and unease down the Detective's back. Eyes, he felt eyes boring into him, coming down from all sides, he was utterly exposed. Beyond, in contrast, was hidden, obscured from L even as the Detective turned, bare feet grinding against the pavement, searching out the kidnapper. Apart from the people, pedestrians ignoring L entirely, B was absent.
"Come say hi anytime Mr. Twelve." The chirping voice rang enthusiastically from the speaker of L's cell as Watari pulled up to the curb, Rolls Royce window descending to reveal the elderly man's grave countenance. B was gone.
L lost it at that moment. Swinging around he chunked the cell phone at the wall, anger propelling the diminutive technology to shatter as it came in contact with the cold, cement. He felt like screaming, punching something. Anything, anybody would have made for the perfect target. Innocent or guilty, he needed to cause something pain.
"Uh…"
In a sudden whoosh every tense, violent thought L had entertained dissipated as he turned around. Light stood there, in the afternoon glow, looking incredibly unsettled. He was alone, seeming to have just emerged from the inside of the building L had used to murder his cell phone. The Detective floundered, dirtied feet rubbing self consciously against each other. He had just thrown a minor temper tantrum in front of the pinnacle of human perfection, there was no way Light was going to submit to him after that.
"Hello Mr. Yagami," L nodded as if there was nothing amiss with the situation. "May I ask what you are doing here at the…" L trailed off as he read the glass door's peeling sign. "…London Police Office?"
It was Light's turn to feel flustered. But L saw the box in his hands before the criminologist's synapses even began to form a coherent response.
"That's evidence pertinent to the Unnatural Flooring murder," the Detective stated, eyes glued to the box the gun was in.
Redness blossomed beneath Light's cheeks. Why the hell did he feel so awkward? It was a gun, not a marriage proposal! "I think you were right, about the gun being pertinent to Beyond's next target," Light said, voice not reflecting the slight embarrassment thumping with his heart. He'd been caught red handed.
L nodded, not quite knowing what to feel, or what to say. He'd just run through London, chasing down a phantom that wasn't even there. Running into Light at the very intersection he'd traced Beyond's cell phone signal to, that was no coincidence. However, Light seemed genuinely surprised to see L. The Detective also couldn't help but note how cute Light was when he blushed. Not that that was an important thought, merely a wayward thought while fifteen other lines of reasoning condemned Light for being at the end of Beyond Birthday's phone trail.
He bit his nail, the familiar flavor of his thumb tinting his taste buds. "We should continue this conversation elsewhere, off the public streets, and perhaps away from the Police Station you no doubt just robbed."
The younger male didn't look to ashamed to be accused of theft and L couldn't help but smirk at the acting, leading the boy down the street.
Light couldn't help but cast several glances at L as they walked, but the Detective said nothing, just slouched along with his hands in his pockets. He cringed as he saw the raven haired man's feet, L wasn't wearing any shoes, yet he was still as tall as Light himself. Clutching the box tightly, Light remained silent, merely observing the man he'd just stolen evidence for. Guilt, the size of a grain of rice, sat in the pit of Light's stomach over the action, but more than that he was worried over what L would do with the gun. Expecially if the firearm yielded no results. The Detective had just chunked his cell phone at a stone wall, such didn't speak of a stable mind.
Beyond was getting to L.
They walked until coming to a Starbucks, conveniently located on the nearest street corner. The interior was like that of every other Starbucks Light had visited, plush browns and warm reds accented by the scent of espresso and scorched milk. L took no time in stepping towards a large glass case, pastries illuminated and kept warm under a glowing, heat lamp. More enthused that a kid in a candy store, he practically raped the baked goods with his eyes.
"Can I get anything started for you?" A cute, blonde barista cast a wary look at L, casting helpless glances towards her coworkers who seemed equally perturbed by the Detective.
Either L didn't mind, or he didn't notice. "I'd like one Pain au Chocolate, that cheesy croissant looking thing," he pointed his finger against the glass, "a strawberry cupcake, a slice of chocolate velvet cake, two classic doughnuts, three marshmallow twizzle sticks, an apple cinnamon muffin, a lemon poppy seed muffin, that albino looking muffin right there, and a chocolate chip cookie." L paused, tapping his chin with his finger. "And I think I'll have a Strawberry and Crème Frappchino, extra whip cream on top, and for Mr. Yagami here a Caramel Macchiato." He finished with a joyful smile on his face, head bobbing up and down at the girl behind the espresso machine.
She looked like she wanted to cry.
Taking pity on the poor woman, Light stepped in. "You'll have to excuse my friend, he can be a bit over enthusiastic, if you could please just bag all of that, we'd really appreciate it."
The blonde seemed relieved to at least here from a normal looking patron, though she still seemed dubious about the large order. Light made a note to tip her a twenty pound note as he turned back to L.
"You know my coffee order?"
L's teeth abused his thumb as he watched the blender spin his frothy, fruit flavored coffee into submission, slight pout on his lips. "I am affronted Light sees me as only a friend."
"Were you supposed to be something else?" Light asked without thinking.
L sent him a doe eyed look of pure innocence and the words sunk in. Light congratulated himself for not decking the man he'd just committed a felony for then and there, instead he glared. Taking a pile of pastry bags from the barista L paid no mind to Light, instead heading for a table in the corner, between the wall and the window, that in no way could have supported everything he'd ordered. Handing over some cash, more than was necessary, Light took the two drinks and went to sit with the Detective who was already wolfing down the chocolate cake slice. It was an interesting site, one that had everyone in the shop staring. Gingerly, Light sat across from L, placing the box with the gun aside the cakes and doughnuts. Through the window Light spied a dark, luxury car parked a block down from them. Watari waved cheerily from beneath the arches of the notable Langham hotel.
"Why didn't you stay there?" Light questioned, sipping his coffee.
L glanced out the window, nodding in comprehension as he saw the golden structure. "They're remodeling," he pouted around his cake, frosting clinging to his lips before being expertly licked away.
Light tried very hard not to focus on that tongue and moved the conversation onward, the sooner he could get away from L the better. "I took a closer look at the victim's body, her nails were highly damaged, suggesting a struggle. She couldn't have had a gun in her hand until after she died."
L paused, cupcake half way to his mouth, thinking over Light's assessment. It was exactly the same as his own deduction. He couldn't help the small tinge of competitiveness sparking within his chest at that. He'd thought it first, deducing it from nothing more than a hastily taken picture. Light had needed the actually body in front of him to see it. Thinking like that may have been petty, but L indulged himself. Either way the boy belonged to him, employment wise at least. Light's win was L's win. Mentally nodding to himself L enjoyed his cupcake, listening to the attractive male.
"Honestly, I couldn't stop thinking about the gun after you mentioned it. It was the only item on the victim that made no sense given the way she was murdered." Light's voice was steady, contemplative as he talked, words coming as his mind pieced the puzzle together. "So, I… took it."
"Yes, I can see that." L peered over his forest of pastry bags to look at the nondescript evidence box. "Let me see it."
"What?" Light spluttered.
"I want to see the gun."
Light couldn't help but wonder if L was stupid. "This is a public place, L!" he whispered furiously, trying his hardest not too loose composure. "You can't take a gun out in here!"
"You can't steal one either, but you did anyway," L retorted, wide, black eyes boring into Light emotionlessly as a muffin fell victim to the raven haired man's appetite.
L made for the box but Light beat him to it. If someone was going to handle a gun in the middle of a Starbucks Coffee Shop it would not be the eccentric man with no manners and sense of decency. Light pulled the top off the box and examined the Rami Compact. The bullets had been removed from the firearm, along with something else. It didn't look like they'd need to shoot the gun after all.
Pulling the neatly wrapped paper from its evidence bag Light passed it over to L and covered the box once more, concealing the gun from any prying eyes.
L held the paper gently, as if it would disintegrate before his very eyes. Keenly, he read the contents through twice, sweet fueled good mood evaporating into the clouds hanging over London. "Why was this not in the case file?"
Light was wondering that himself.
3B
A few hours later.
"Twice in one day, how lucky am I?"
Naomi ignored the sarcasm, but only because it was warranted. Even if her protégée was up to something, which really wasn't all that out of the ordinary for Light Yagami, her earlier call couldn't exactly be construed as pleasant. "I wanted to apologize about earlier this morning."
She could practically picture Light's trademark smirk falling across his visage. "Yes, I'm sure you do."
"Oh don't be that way Light, it's just…" She trailed off, fingers drumming anxiously atop the kitchen table. The letter she'd taken from Light's desk innocently sat to the side, directly in her line of sight. She must have read it over a thousand times already. The subject just couldn't be easily broached, and it was possible she didn't even want to.
"You still don't think I can handle him."
Light's statement caught her off guard and she floundered for a minute. "What? L, no I think you could kick his ass. It's what I trained you for," she said with no small amount of pride. Watching Light hand L his ass was an incredibly entertaining mental movie.
"I know I can handle L," Light shot back. "I told you so this morning."
Oh, right. He had… She ground her teeth together, glaring pointedly at the letter. Maybe this was why her superiors kept telling her not to pry into complicated wrecks.
"It's B you think I'll have issues with," Light continued, speaking over her pause.
Naomi swiped a lock of hair back, sighing. "You're not a field agent Light, you have a desk job." She leaned back in her chair, eyeing the letter critically. "You've only ever seen him in a closed setting, when he's chained behind bars like the animal he is."
"No."
"No? The hell do you mean no?"
"I mean I've already seen Beyond," Light said plainly.
Naomi didn't know how to react to that statement. There was something seriously wrong with Light Yagami, to willingly fly across the country for Beyond Birthday. Who was antagonizing Light and L by the sound of things. She wasn't the only one with contacts to the California penitentiary B had been holed up in, she'd checked. Light knew before leaving, before they'd both been alerted by a concerned prison manager, that Beyond was gone.
It just didn't sit right. Flying to London to catch Beyond Birthday, it didn't make sense.
"Please be careful," she finally said, dropping her head back to follow the rotation of the ceiling fan hanging above her.
Light didn't seem to believe what he was hearing. "You mean you're dropping the subject?"
No.
"Yes." She picked the letter up off the table. "Do what you need to do, but promise me one thing."
"I promise I'll call you when I need backup."
She couldn't help but smile at the honesty, she could feel it, Light wasn't lying. At the very least, there was still some amount of trust between the two of them, he'd still confide in her at some point. Maybe things weren't as messy as she'd thought.
Or maybe they were too clean.
"Thank you," she breathed before hanging up. The letter bent over limply in her hand, the paper softened from being folded and unfolded dozens of times. Without even thinking about it, she started reading, even though the words were already imprinted into her mind, each letter a file in her memory.
Raito,
You know what I want. I told you. I'm not taking that back. It is my deepest desire to give Sayu a world free of worry, a world where she is safe. More than that, I wish to give her a world where the family I know I will someday have with her, our children, and yours too, are safe.
But I need your help to do this.
Know that, if you accept to help me in this foolish quest I'm about to embark on, I will not be able to tell you everything. Certain information is sensitive, and I fear that if you were to learn everything from the offset, my plan would fall through. Your brilliance is greater than mine, giving you knowledge would be dangerous.
But I need your help. For Sayu's sake.
If you agree, contact me. There's someone I'll need you to get in touch with.
Sincerely,
Attach.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
A/N:
I'm curious. What do you guys think of Hatchirou?
And note, you cannot synthesize M99 with supplies provided by your high school chemistry lab unless you have a very creepy/disturbed/is probably raping your classmates chemistry instructor. Hence the reason Beyond killed the hot teaching assistant.