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Seiren's Note to Readers: Uh oh, it's the return of Nega-Matt. Run for the hills, run for your lives, it's Armageddon! Well, not really. And before you run, please read. Anyway, I wrote this one while listening to techno music. Yeah. Gleam from that what you may.

**Disclaimer**

Seiren: Let's see, if I, or any other starry-eyed fangirl or boy, owned Death Note or its characters, let's just say our favorite boys would end up locked in a closet together.

Matt: That's a VERY scary thought.

Mello: I guess it's a good thing she and the rest of the fans don't own us, then, eh?

Matt: Yeah.

**End Disclaimer**

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~Trial and Terror~

Original Author: Seiren_Sekito . Enjoy!!

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Matt glared at the TV screen, displeased by how obtrusively weak Jr. was being in Xenosaga II. Constantly, the kid was going to yellow and dying, eating up all of the precious Revive items in his inventory! Matt did not see the problem here. The damn enemy was weak against physical attacks, and Jr. was one of the best for physical attacks! A nice three-attack combo would kill it instantly! What was so complicated about that? Especially since this was a relatively weak enemy. Good God, Jr. was at level 74; he should be fully capable of destroying the enemy without breaking a sweat!

In the middle of muttering a monologue worthy of Kira's standards to his spineless fighter, he almost didn't hear the phone ringing. When he did, he grabbed it a brought it to his ear just a little too quickly. "This is Matt. What do you need me to do for you?"

"Hello, sir. We've just called to tell you about an opportunity to refinance your home. Mortgage values are lower than they have ever been now, and this is the time for you to purchase a prime vacation home in Miami!"

A telemarketer. And a more vapid, brainless one than average, by the sound of it. Matt did not need this right now. "Sorry, I'm not interested..."

"If you take advantage of this offer, you will not have to worry about high prices on your mortgage in a few months."

"This is an apartment, lady..."

"Well sir, I suggest that you get a house now. Only an idiot wouldn't buy a home now, when prices are so dirt-cheap! How many can I put you down for?"

"Are you asking me how many houses I want?!"

"Is that one or two? Perhaps you really want to impress people and go for three?"

Matt took the receiver away from his ear for a moment to just stare at it. Was this woman really that brainless? That eager to make a sale? He got good money as a top-notch hacker, but he definitely couldn't afford three houses! Nor did he even want one! He preferred his dirt-cheap apartment, thank you very much. "Lady, I want you to take me off your list. I am not interested in anything you could possibly offer me."

"I'll put you down for two. Now, would you like mansions, ranch-style houses, or condos?"

"Are you even listening to me? I said, take me off your list!"

"Mansions, then. I have some prime ones up for sale in New York. Really expensive, but for you they're a bargain!"

"Look, lady. I've had a really bad day. Now take me off your damn list!"

"Now. Would you also like a vacation package to Miami?"

Matt gently set the receiver down, and Paused his game. "Mello, I'm going out for a bit!" he called to the blond in the bedroom. "Don't touch my game while I'm gone."

He was out the door before his roommate could even reply. The telemarketer kept chattering for a few minutes, until she asked for a credit card number.

There was no answer from the empty living room.

"Sir? I need a credit card number."

No reply.

"Sir?"

The silence was total.

"Sir, don't tell me you'd be stupid enough to not take advantage of this amazing, once-in-a-lifetime deal! Now, I need your credit card number so I can get you your brand new paradi- Oh my God! Who the hell are you?"

"I told you to take me off your list, lady. There is a reason my neighbors never piss me off intentionally."

"Sir, instead of this, wouldn't it be easier to register a complaint with the front desk?"

"Front desk is currently engulfed in flames. As your office is about to be."

"What?!"

"Present from an ex-Mafioso's best friend."

There was a roaring, exploding sound over the receiver, a horrified scream, and then silence.

~oOo~

The next morning, there was a small article on the second page of the newspaper, detailing how a small building in downtown LA had mysteriously blown up the night before. Nobody had any idea how it occurred, although arson was suspected. But no proof could be found anywhere to support the theory. The only witness was a single woman, who claimed that a goggled man in stripes had broken into her office and planted bombs, using a rope to escape through her window before he pressed the detonator and blew her office up, or more specifically, her telephone.

Her friends were seeking psychological aid for the obviously disturbed woman, the article said. There was, after all, no such evidence to support such a theory, and even if the person were real, he would've been burned alive.

Matt refolded the newspaper with an evil little smirk and looked at Mello, who was bagging some ice for Matt's burned arm. The blond gave him a look. "Just because you're my friend, Matt, doesn't mean you can go around using my store of bombs for your own personal use."

He approached Matt and plunked the bag of ice unforgivingly down on Matt's burn. Matt hissed angrily as he reached for the remote.

"After the first few incidents, you'd think that by now telemarketers would know better than to call this apartment. That's the sixth building I've blown up since you came here."

~oOo~

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Matt: Why do you continuously like to make me Nega-Matt?!

Seiren: It's not MY fault, per se. It's LA. It has that effect on people.

Mello & B: *nod nod*

Seiren: And I… Well, I like evil people.

Matt: …

Mello: You know… that explains a LOT.

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