Wammy shoved Light's dozen suitcases and satchels and other frippery into the backseat of the Aston Martin, as the trunk was already full with the advance guard of Light's luggage. He was muttering strange curses under his breath at the boy, who had regretfully volunteered to keep his belongings at bay as a sort of human dam in the backseat.
"He can hear you," said L blandly from his exceedingly comfortable position shotgun. A single bag lay at his feet while Light was left to be squished by the majority of his possessions. "And he doesn't like to be touched." L blithely ignored the look Light flashed him at that.
Wammy was dramatically turning the key in the ignition after a flourish of his hands. "We shall now commence our foray into the very bowels of Gaia herself!"
L watched Light giggle nervously into his sleeve from the rearview mirror.
The giggling was stopped short when they began hurtling down a narrow gravel road at upwards of 160 kmph. Wammy particularly enjoyed turning at the very last second, which would send Light hurtling into either his door or his suitcases. Before journey's end he was already counting bruises, totally disoriented, nauseous, and hoping the old man would suffer a fatal collision on the return trip.
"Out," bellowed Wammy once they came to a halt in a wide clearing. He turned in his seat to glare at Light through narrowed eyes. "Treat the goddess kindly and she won't bite." Then he clapped L on the shoulder. "Methinks the tent to the northwest is most apt for your purposes. And Light, if I hear that you've disobeyed my finest detective in anywhichway I'll have you chained to his side, is that statement pellucid enough for you?"
Light only cowered behind his laptop case.
As for L, he dutifully considered the size of Light's wrists.
It has been previously stated that the facade of Wammy's Sleepaway Camp shown to Light was his ideal for connecting deeply with the environment. He also appreciated the outdoors through the various sports he played—when connected with competition, aggression, and uniforms, he didn't quite mind a mouthful of trimmed grass. But to venture forth into spaces where no city lights hued the blackest of nights tints lighter than they would have been, where creatures with teeth dwelt to provoke, where comfortable luxuries Light considered the barest of necessities were forsaken—it was enough to make the spoiled thing twitch.
Of course L and Wammy had taken this heartily into account and the place where Light was to dwell for the next three months had been designed with him in the foremost of their thoughts. Wammy had decided himself which character he was to play in order to give Light the sense that no authority beyond L himself would be helpful in the least. This perspective had been applied to the campground itself: to create in L the only bulwark of knowledge.
There were no cabins. There were no tents. Instead, they had implemented the appalling spawn of the two: the platform tent, a structure with a shingled roof and canvas sides set on a raised wooden deck. These horrors of architecture were totally vulnerable while appearing decent to a passerby's eye. Three had been erected inside the grassy clearing. These were neighbored with a single latrine and an extensive square of dirt with a fire pit in the middle.
Upon reaching the tent Wammy had so kindly directed them to, Light found that L's belongings were already inside the space. Coolers, paired with a single suitcase, were carefully stacked underneath a hammock that took up a full third of the area. A metal cot with a thin pallet made of plastic was, Light saw, the only option he'd been provided with. The air mattress he brought was going to save him.
L plopped into the hammock at once, curled sideways with his thumb at his lips. Light was poking about near the floor.
"There are no electrical outlets, Light. If you would like I can have Wammy bring batteries for any devices you have that could use them."
"That's fine," Light snapped, contenting himself with ripping his air mattress out of its package.
"They'll be here in an hour."
Delicately hiding his anger, Light began pumping.
Exactly four minutes and twenty-six seconds before the arrival of those who were to transform Light's world forever the tent became something livable. L's side had not changed. Light's side seemed to now be a condensed archival of his entire life.
The metal cot was covered with air mattress and cotton sheets with a high enough thread count for a luxury hotel, as well as an eiderdown comforter in a tasteful steel color, with a ratty old thing stuffed quickly inside a pillowcase that may or may not have been a baby blanket. The ramifications of the baby blanket were amusing L to no end as he watched Light from behind the screen of his laptop. The seventeen year-old had hung a small mirror on one of the wooden side supports next to a sheet strung across a corner to suggest a triangle-shaped changing room (the fabric was patterned with strawberries; L assumed it was an old sheet of Light's sister). A row of shoes (hiking boots, steel-toed boots, flip flops in three different colors and two pairs of sneakers) were neatly lined at the foot of the bed near an opened suitcase whose contents revealed more polos sorted by depth of saturation. The domestic finishing touches were a straw mat on the floor at the entrance, a few photos tacked next the mirror, and a bottle of febreze lying on a rough-hewn bedside table procured from another tent.
L now had every reason to believe that Light was secretly a twelve year-old girl.
Before he could suggest this fact in a mildly acerbic way the unmistakable roar of the Aston hit them, and they watched the beast of metal follow its previous tracks and pull onward until the car was directly lined up with the open tent flaps.
"I've brought them!" Wammy hallooed as he rolled down his window. "I see Light is still here! Excellent! Now, you fell beasts, leave Matilda before I beat your hides bloody."
Without any further ado, three beings tumbled out of the car and raced inside.
Light had been prepared. He had been told that he was to meet the campers, had been told that they were geniuses—that they required Light's devotion and he was expected to teach them.
But he had not expected Mello.
And now, faced with long thighs, infinitesimal shorts, and a tight little smirk, neurons had almost ceased firing.
"What's that?" snapped the blonde angel himself, pointing a rather dirty finger at the strangely preened creature in his idol's living quarters.
"Light Yagami."
"Whoa." Mello's eyes, as those of his two companions, roamed over Light and his accompanying property with a bit of shock. Though Light had yet to open his mouth the three mutually concluded from the visuals provided that L was either daft or smitten for taking in this pampered, sheltered thing reeking of DEET and sunscreen.
Feeling that his presence was enough of an introduction, Mello bounded over suitcases to rip the photographs off the post in handfuls before curling up next to Light and sweetly demanding each grisly crime scene to be explained in perverse detail. Matt plopped next to him with DS in hand after grunting something congenial in Light's direction, and after sinking to the floor at Light's feet Near took a handful of legos out of his pocket and began to act out Light's eventual demise, eyes narrowed on L. The main protagonist of this adventure mutely watched the four with growing irritation. Or rather, he watched Mello take full, cool-eyed advantage of Light's dazed adoration, prying for information until Light was detailing the security the Japanese police force gave their databases. (Not that Mello cared in the least about the subject—he was much more interested in discovering what triggers best manipulated. Biting his lip whilst tucking back a random strand of gold silk behind his ear would lead to unfettered, exuberant divulgences, for starters.) After five minutes of Light's rambling Mello had learned everything he wanted for the moment and rose to languidly stretch, emitting a rumbling purr stolen directly from L.
"...and then I was holding the tampon after smearing the...where are you going?" Light's ego returned and carved through the Mello-induced haze. He was not dismissed, especially not while listing his most embarrassing moments. Exactly how had they moved to that topic? He couldn't quite remember—it may have been at the time Mello decided to lean over and expose an elegant stretch of spine tight against his black shirt.
"I'm hungry," Matt volunteered.
"Yes," Near agreed, dropping Light's hairdryer. The three looked at L.
"Go unpack," was the brusque order. "We'll start making food in half an hour."
Mello leapt from the tent with Matt in tow while Near followed in their hyper wake. Once Mello's shouts were a fair distance away L sat up in his hammock and plucked absently at a hangnail. "They won," he announced.
Light glared. "What?"
"Name one of them."
L watched Light fish-mouth uncomfortably. It was then Light noticed that half of his suitcases were now open and the contents in disarray. "What–"
"Near decided that Mello's psychoanalysis wasn't broad enough."
"I didn't even—" But that had been the point. Light shut his mouth and flopped onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. "They won."
A sullen silence followed that L broke once he figured the internal tantrum had subsided. "Would you like to meet the rest of the staff, Light?"
"There–oh–of course."
Unfortunately progress towards that goal was impeded by the situation that confronted the two once they left their tent.
Not only was Matt tied to the grille over the fire pit, stripped to the waist, Mello was dancing around the boy with a can of lighter fluid, eagerly sloshing the contents over his body.
"–EVER HIDE MY GHIRARDELLI OR GODIVA AGAIN–" Mello was screaming.
Ignoring Mello's horrible taste in chocolate, Light saw this as a chance to not only exercise his excellent skills at moderation and peacemaking but to ogle Mello further. He sprinted quickly towards the two as graceful as any lithe beast of the savannah with L following at a walk.
Mello, plan going perfectly, pulled out the gun he'd stuffed into his shorts and pointed the weapon at Light once Light was close enough that his face would be blown off in one neat chunk. "BUGGER OFF, I'M-A-GAY."
Light flushed. He noticed that Near was perched on a chair made from a thick slice of log and, for some reason, his embarrassment deepened, most likely because Near's expression seemed to convey that he thought Light a twat. Further agony was spared by L.
"Mello, desist at once."
The grip on the gun loosened. "What's with this guy anyway?" He waved the gun in Light's face.
L blinked. "Please tell me you did not create this scene simply to get my attention."
Mello was most definitely pouting now. Light bit the inside of his cheek to keep from violating the boy and with that alerted Mello to a chance at victory. The blonde threw the gun to the ground and prostrated himself at Light's feet. This gave Light a most excellent view of parts of Mello he'd had yet to scrutinize and Yes, whatever you'd like was already on Light's tongue when Mello began to wail.
"Liiiiiiiiiggghhhh–"
"We're leaving," said L abruptly. The detective made is if to pluck at Light's shirt but his hand fell back awkwardly; three others (Light was still staring at Mello) took note. "Now. Light has to meet the rest of the staff. Mello–untie him."
Mello glared but reached for the bungee cords as the two older boys turned towards a path at the edge of camp.
Matt grinned up at his captor. "They're both hopeless. We can exploit this."
Near huffled a little noise that may have been contentment.
Light was still too discomfited by his total lack of control over his charges to speak during the walk (as after all, that had been the test, to see what he would do, and L's comment of getting attention almost seemed like sympathetic slander once Light pieced together the camper's real motive). The sight of an ancient one-level lodge cheered him slightly. Every person he met with an intelligence less than his own was another victim he could bend and mold at will.
That they had already been preconditioned to his methods was not something he considered.
The building, a mess hall, had no merit other than practical. There was a kitchen and small dining hall adjoining with rickety long tables and benches. The entire place had a heavy, musty odor distilled by the scent of something delightful being made. Loud shouts from the kitchen drew the pair into that area, where three people were preparing what would be the next day's breakfast.
It was three women, three different flavors of blonde. At the sight of Light there was a communal gasp.
"Is that him?" The one dressed mostly in black and hot pink lace and little else ran over and attached herself to Light's waist. "What's his name L he's so pretty can we keep him I mixed all the vanilla syrup for tomorrow L aren't you proud of me what's his name?"
L peeled the girl off of Light's terrified person. "Misa, what did your psychologist tell you about touching?"
"Not to," she replied, gripping L's wrist.
Light tried to hide a leer as L wrenched the white-knuckled fingers from his arm. "Yes. Now obey."
She acquiesced, settling to obnoxiously run her fingers through her hair. "But L you didn't answe–"
"His name is Light."
The girl gasped so hard she drew in a gnat. "That's so pretty isn't he pretty L I want him marry him is he like you like a genius too someone new here so pretty..." She stared up at Light with worship in her wide, wide, wide cerulean eyes.
"Hi," Light said.
The girl swooned, tipping into L's side. He bounced her off gently with a bump of his hip.
"Light spoke to me L did you see that I want to kiss his pretty nose and his pretty eyes ad his pretty hands and L he's bleeding," she shrieked, her hands disappearing underneath L's shirt as she clenched his abs. "L GET HIM A BANDAID I WILL DON'T MOVE BYE I LOVE YOU LIGHT." With that, she was running into a different section of the hall. The other two women were laughing, one behind her hand and the other blatant.
"I'm Halle," said the more respectful one, still hiding a grin. "I'm the head chef."
"Wedy," said the other. She gave Light a smile that was all acid-red lipstick and teeth. "Sous-chef. And that was Misa, our…scullery maid."
This was more normal, and Light switched to perfect mode. "Hi," he waved with a sweet little smile that Misa would have licked off his face had she seen it. "I'm glad to meet..." The sentence trailed into annoyance as Hal ignored him and began talking to L, Wedy turning away to beat something with a hammer.
"LIGHTLIGHTIGOTCHERBANDAIDSRIGHTHERE. I'm so glad I could help you!" She beamed as she began unwrapping bandaids covered with day-glo dancing skeletons. The cut, a tiny little thing on the back of his hand, had already scabbed hours ago. She plastered five bandaids over it and finished by grabbing his deltoid.
"O-oh, you're so stro-ong," she whispered, batting eyelashes and running a finger along his jaw.
"Amane," L snapped.
Misa flinched. "Sowwy," she simpered. She contented herself with such lustful leering that Light blushed and unconsciously drifted closer to L, who noticed the action with a slight raise of his eyebrows before turning back to Halle. "We'll be leaving now. And tell Mikami we won't need him for three more weeks."
"Will do. Here!" She grabbed a box off the counter and shoved the thing into Light's chest. He took it, staring at the packages and containers inside. He smelt nitrates and preservatives. Disgusting. Light followed L out, balancing the box on one shoulder and ignoring all of Misa's comments related to his strength, physique, and perfectly toned calves.
"We're going to get married," she sighed once Light's back had finally disappeared from her vision.
Hal grinned and grabbed the walkie-talkie stuck deep in her apron pocket. "They've just left," she said into the receiver.
Thanks, Hal, erupted Mello's voice from the tiny thing. Then a startled cry came from somewhere in the background and Halle winced as Mello's walkie-talkie was dropped, voices still floating to her end.
What do you mean she's yours? Oh shut up, it's Matt that's got the real crush on her cause he actually likes girls– There was auditory evidence of a scuffle and then everything went dead.
Back on the camper's end, Near chewed his bottom lip and stared somewhere past Mello, who'd pinned the boy to the floor of Near's tent. "You're hurting me," he said by way of conversation when it became apparent Mello was content with sitting on his chest and luridly staring. In reply, Mello whacked Near's hand away from his hair, grin growing ever more lurid by the second. Near propped himself up on his elbows and dared the other further with a leer that was almost as much of a coquettish pout, and before the situation could progress into even more interesting territory there was, of course, an immediate interruption.
"You guys," Matt drawled from the tent opening, eyes fixed on rubbing his goggles clear of mud, "I finished putting the itch powder in all of his twenty-seven polos. Unless the raccoons remember us it'll take like a day or two to get new ones."
"'Kay!" Mello chirruped. "Now lets see if the hornet's nest is still in that tree!"
When L and Light returned the three were missing and declared themselves explorers when questioned on their return. Mello and Matt's legs were covered in mud up to their knees and Near's clothes had been peppered with brambles, but L thought their explanation sufficient. Besides, everyone was starving.
Alas, the grueling experience that was dinner, both prep and actual consumption, was horrific for most involved. Consider the prep. A meal that was to consist of hot dogs, chips, and several varieties of scrumptious side dishes requiring actual work were mutilated by Light. Not only had he never cooked in the open air, he had never cooked, having a slave of a mother who considered it almost her duty to wipe Light's mouth for him after each bite. The hot dogs were charred, the potato salad experienced an unwelcome addition of mandarin oranges when Light toppled the can trying to save marshmallow whip from certain, ash-covered death, and on the whole the seventeen year-old managed to make L reconsider his decision to create an extra campsite to see how Light would adapt. Because of every disaster involved L cynically determined that Light may have been faking his ineptitude and neither lifted a finger or made a comment. If it was a plot, he may as well starve with the rest of the campers, and L had never planned on eating beyond what he had brought himself and was therefore spared. The rest were forced to choke down what they could, refusing to look at Light other than to offer up his services for cleanup, which he agreed to (and how could he refuse with Mello flush against his side after the blonde fed him the one mandarin orange not polluted by mayonnaise?)
The citric acid was souring in his mouth when he was left with nothing but a dying fire and a mountainous pile of dishes to wash. Yagami was not afraid of nature, or of the dark. After all, there was too much humanity present, and too much light. Flashlights and lanterns bobbed inside Mello and Matt's tent (and Light could tell now that the screams and manic laughing coming from that direction were going to be his lullaby until they had activities that would wear those two out completely). Near's tent was dark, but Light had seen him shuffle into Light's own tent.
No, Light was not afraid, but growling noises kept emanating from the tree line to his right and he was getting a tad nervous. His fear escalated with the volume level of the scratches and snarls coming ominously closer with each swipe of his scouring pad until Light was so pumped with foreboding L's smile at his return was almost comforting. L radiated cold, dispirited practicality. Bogeymen could not exist around him.
"Please go back to your tent, Near," L told the boy with a helpful poke.
Light waited till the tent flap had closed till he spoke. "There was something weird growling out there."
"Oh." L shoved his laptop under his pillow. "I should have told you."
"I don't remember wolves being indigenous to this area."
"It's not a wolf."
It's. Light slunk onto his bed.
"We have a ranger that tends the grounds."
"Most rangers do," replied Light acidly.
L ignored the sarcasm, noting how hard Light was breathing. "Did you see him?"
"No."
"It wouldn't matter if you did, really."
"Why?"
"He looks just like me."
"You have an imbecilic twin who wanted to share in your glory so you gave him the pity job of mucking around in the dirt?"
L almost smiled. "No. He wants to become me. And yes, he is a bit...it's not safe," he finished suddenly. "I'm glad you came inside. I should have stayed out there with you, but I wanted to see if he would show up the first night."
"...I was bait."
"Yes."
Light had nothing to say to this as every response involved violence. He also thought L might be teasing him and said ranger was some form of snipe or Light would have behaved differently to this exquisitely odd and alarming piece of information. L nibbled the heads off gummy bears as he watched Light slink behind his changing curtain, slink out again in nothing more than a pair of pajama pants and crawl under his covers. The teen, whose bed was perpendicular to L's, rolled his head back to peer up at L with intentionally beseeching doe eyes. "Aren't you tired? I always go to sleep at ten each night." And there was no way this freak could expect him to keep the sleep schedule evidenced by the panda lines beneath each eye.
L began rocking, setting chin on knees. "I have other responsibilities besides my duties here and the only way I can fulfill both is by four hour naps every thirty-six hours."
Light managed to sound both sympathetic and victimized. "Oh." And then, "Are you going to turn off that light?"
"No, unless it bothers you."
"Yes. Sorry."
They were suddenly plunged into some abyss. Used to the constant artificial dusk of a huge city Light felt trapped, he could only feel; his eyes strained to catch something but there was nothing but pitch. Then light flared up again and L began typing.
One of Light's less endearing idiosyncrasies was requiring absolute silence in order to sleep. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for a torture that would last three months. He would adapt. Lifestyle would be refashioned, the culture of camping would sink into his bones, eventually he'd get used to the freak. With these comforting bits of an almost-mantra Light reflected on the day and assessed himself via the mental checklist he'd created before arriving.
Pry into the mind of his fellow counselor in order to gain advantage
The passion for sugar could be used against L, certainly...And that was all Light could think of. He really knew nothing else other than the obvious. Quite galling, that.
Create a bond between self and campers in order to make them more loyal to him than L
That had also failed. He was more loyal to Mello than to his own sensibilities and his knowledge of the other two was slim. The redhead was some introverted gaming type (did the goggles hint at cyberpunk? steampunk? adolescent insecurity in the form of conformance of a stereotype?) and the one made of fluff was also introverted and evidently had some rapport with L. He preferred his own tent over sharing with the others, which was something else to mull over.
So really, he knew nothing of them as well.
Gain an inside knowledge of the camp and its dealings in order to climb to the top
Misa could be used, that was for certain. Oh, and there was supposedly some ferocious human living in the woods catching woodland creatures with its teeth who wanted to be L.
He tried to remember what sort of insurance policy the camp had made him sign, but L's clicking was grating. It was all he could hear, and analytical thought was finished.
Click tap click tip tip tip tap tip click.
Half a million British pounds and an empire of geniuses.
He closed his eyes.
Click tap tap tip click. Tip.
"There's a bat on the rafter thing," Light observed some five hours later. It may have been shadows. After all, anything he tried to keep focus on for more than seven seconds without blinking began to mutate.
"Yes, there is." Tip. Slurp clickclickclickclickclickclick.
"Are there bats in all the tents?"
"No." Sip. Munch.
"Are you done yet?"
"You won't suffocate if you put the covers over your head, Light-kun," L said in Japanese. Light hardly noticed the language switch in his exhaustion. Fifteen feet to the west Mello tried to engage Matt in a screaming contest and Light began twitching. "I...there's a bat," he tried again.
Suddenly L's face was over Light's, staring down with an empty cupcake wrapper dangling from his fingers. "Would you like me to get the bat out of the tent, Light-kun?"
Light nodded. Then he yelped when L jumped onto his bed and plucked the bat down with his bare hands to snap its neck in one movement, before tossing the vermin and wrapper out of the rear flap of the tent and climbing back into his hammock, where he resumed typing.
"Goodnight, Light-kun."
Now believing that anything was possible, Light cocooned beneath the covers and drifted off.