A/N: Here it is! The third chapter! Yayy! So, this chapter's pretty short too, but if my memory serves me correctly, the next one's longer. And guess what? I'M ON HOLIDAY! ...For a week. -_- It's only half term, so it's nothing major and my teachers have loaded me up with work, but that doesn't matter because I'm only gonna do it on Monday! (Yes, I do believe ignoring the problem makes it go away)

Thanks so much for the reviews etc, people! Super grateful to:

CatatonicVanity

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and BehindHappyFaces! Feedback, following and favouriting (ALLITERATION!) much appreciated. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of its characters. All credit goes to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. That takes really long to type out...

Chapter 3: Illogic

Mello stormed through the deserted streets, as over-dramatic as any actor would have been in front of a two thousand strong audience.

Stomping through puddles with unnecessary viciousness, he fumed at the general shittiness of his week.

Monday, he had failed in a job for the first time. Ever.

Tuesday, he had been hunted down by the gang he had been meant to do said job for and shot for his trouble.

Wednesday morning, he had woken up in a strange bed, being approached by a strange man with a strange personality and strange dress sense.

Wednesday afternoon...well, now, rather, was being productively spent marching around dark alleyways for hours on end.

He had initially intended on going home, but it took a full five minutes before he remembered he didn't have a home anymore, now that the gang had kicked him out.

So, now he was wandering (except Mello never wandered, so he wasn't) around an unfamiliar district, not lost at all and definitely not homeless.

But he was cold, unfortunately; he'd left his damn jacket with the weird dude who'd thought it'd be a good idea to nurse him to health like Florence fucking Nightingale.

Perfect.

After much searching, Mello finally managed to discover an abandoned flat that wasn't a pile of rubble, mould and creepy crawlies. Finding a corner that didn't smell too bad, he curled up, his hair his only pillow and his shoulder aching from the cold, and fell into a fitful sleep.

"What do you mean, you're out of stock?!" Mello demanded, grabbing a fistful of the unfortunate shopkeeper's shirt.

"Ah – we don't have any of those jackets left anymore! They were part of the autumn collection, and we've already sent off for the winter!" the man protested.

Mello's eyes lit up with the promise of painful murder. "Well, you can just order me back one more of those jackets, then, can't you?"

The shopkeeper shook his head. "That's impossible, they were all bought. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. Would you like to try some of our other styles?"

"No!" Mello released the man and stormed out of the shop.

It was just too much. He'd spent days looking for a shop that sold the same style of jacket as he'd had, and when he finally found one, the manager had the cheek to tell him they were out of fucking stock!

He had been particularly attached to that jacket; it had been through almost as much as he had.

Mello seethed, clenching his fists and scaring children. He guessed there was nothing else for it: he was going to have to go back to the Freak Geek.

It took Mello the best part of two hours to finally make his way back to the district in which the weirdo lived. Making his way to the specific street he remembered, Mello pondered upon what to say. Should he be polite (or at the very least, not rude), seeing as he wanted something from the dude, and he hadn't exactly been courteous during their last meeting. Or should he just demand his jacket back, as he did with everything else?

Mello huffed, and turned the corner, only to see something very wrong indeed.

There was a door open.

Mello didn't need more than two seconds to recognise said door as the one he had rushed out of a few days previously. Was the guy really so stupid as to think he could leave his door hanging open like that in this area, practically inviting burglars, murderers and worse into his home?

Despite his low opinion of the kid, Mello didn't think so.

He produced his gun and flicked the safety off, holding it close to his body in a ready position. He then edged his way towards the gaping entryway, trying not to make a sound.

When he reached the door, he jumped inside the house quickly, gun still held ready. At the absence of threat (or anything, really), Mello relaxed slightly and opened the door nearest to him.

Woah. Mello was speechless for the first time in his life. The room was absolutely crammed with technology: computers, laptops, gaming consoles, television monitors, and other gadgets he honestly didn't have a clue about.

Is this something to do with his job? Mello asked himself, remembering the redhead's description of the illegality of his occupation. Is he a hacker or something?

Concluding that this was very possible, Mello shrugged and moved to the next room, finding a simple shower, toilet and sink, along with a couple of cabinets.

Wondering where the hell the nerd was (he hadn't looked like the type to go out much), Mello slammed open the door he knew led to the bedroom and scanned the area. Empty of life, as were the others.

Getting frustrated, Mello walked through the one door in the house that hadn't been closed. He came across a kitchenette, complete with fridge, table, stove and cupboards. However, the thing that disturbed him most was none of these.

Mello hurried over to the table, where a bowl of barely picked-at noodles was lying. The fork was just next to it, as if it had been put down with the intention of immediately returning back to it.

Mello frowned. He held a hand over the food. It was stone cold.

Swearing, Mello flicked his gun's safety back on and shoved it back into his trousers. It was obvious he was alone in this building, but that was more of a worry than the opposite would have been.

The guy had gone, and Mello suspected he hadn't been expecting to leave.

Which implied he had been taken against his will.

Mello cursed again, flouncing back into the bedroom, where he found his jacket neatly folded on the chair he remembered the redhead sitting in. Mello picked it up, any relief he might have felt at finding his precious item of clothing swallowed up by the concern deep in his chest.

He didn't even know why he was so worried about the damn guy; he couldn't even remember his name!

Mello scowled at himself, donning his jacket and gingerly easing it over his shoulder, though it wasn't hurting so much nowadays.

It was probable that the geek had been taken because of Mello himself, though to be fair, that was the redhead's own fault for picking him up in the first place.

Mello also had a good idea about just who had taken him.

Coming to a decision, Mello exited the house at a run, slamming the front door behind him. He refused to acknowledge the déja vu of the situation.

He was going to pay a visit to his former gang's base.

A/N: Does this count as another cliffhanger...? No, I don't think so. XD Well, action chapter next time! Look forward to it if you like that stuff. If you don't...uh...sorry?