Disclaimer: I do not own or make money from the anime Death Note
Suggested Listening: night of the hunter – 30 seconds to mars
Part 5
"Mello."
That voice was one Mello knew all too well. But for him to be calling again so soon didn't bode well.
"I have a job for you." There was a sort of amusement in the gravelly voice. Mello immediately knew he didn't want it, whatever it was, because he doubted it would be in his current area.
"Rod, you know I'm busy-"
"I'm not asking. You will do this and get it done as soon as you can. You have your laptop on you, correct?" Rod asked.
Mello was seething. He didn't have time for this crap, but he was even more pissed that he really couldn't refuse; it was a direct order, not even a request.
"Yeah, I have it." Mello managed to keep the contempt from his voice and sounded calm and not like he wanted to put a bullet into the man calling him.
"Good. Once you have landed back in Los Angeles, give Rhodes a call, and he will forward you the information. I trust you will do this professionally, Mello. You know the consequences of failure," Rod reminded him before cutting the call.
Mello frowned at the phone and almost threw it across the room. There would be no rest until the job was complete. Checking the flight times, Mello swore. Rod may or may not not know exactly where he was, but he at least knew the state or else it was an entirely huge coincidence that if he left right then, he would have just enough time to get through security and onto his flight. If Mello missed it, the next one wasn't until the following morning.
Mello wouldn't have time to stop by Matt's and tell him he would be gone for a few days. He really wished he had Matt's cell phone number.
"Fuck!" This time, Mello really did throw his phone.
.
.
Mello stepped out of the taxi in L.A. in a foul mood. The flight had been horrible, and to top it off, L.A. was once again sweltering hot, and Mello was in leather. He had never gotten used to it, even after all the time he spent there, and visiting a cooler climate hadn't helped his tolerance in the least.
Muttering under his breath as he dialed, Mello stepped into a nearby cafe. He needed coffee, and he needed it now, or someone was going to get shot.
"Mello, so glad you could call." Rhodes's fake cheer instantly grated on Mello's last nerve. Mello narrowed his eyes at the cashier who scowled at him. Yes, he was one of those annoying customers ordering whilst on his cell phone-what are you going to do about it? Nothing. Because the customer is always fucking right.
Mello was miserable; therefore, the world in general had to be miserable along with him. Childish, definitely. Mello didn't really care.
He ordered his coffee, two of them with espresso shots, and a few packages of the chocolate covered espresso beans as he listened to Rhodes. The man was waffling on about Rod waking him after a good lay and demanding he familiarize himself with some file and sort out the details of said mission to send to someone, and Mello hardly felt sympathy for him. The man was what, forty something? He should be used to this crap by now.
"Rhodes, send me the goddamn file before I find a way to shoot you from a phone call." Mello heard typing and instantly forced himself to calm down. He was generally volatile, but his current attitude was bordering on ridiculous.
Mello chewed on a few of the espresso beans and let the caffeine boost rush through him. He felt calmer for it. "Is it sent?"
"Yeah. Now get this done, so I can get on with my other business." Rhodes hung up on him, but Mello had heard his parting words. Rhodes had been asked to look after him. It wasn't like Rod to order something of the nature, not if he was trusting you. Mello frowned.
Welcome back to L.A.
Mello seated himself at a table and made use of the surface as he pulled out his laptop. It had been the only thing he had taken back with him; everything else was at the hotel, meaning his extra clothing.
Mello palmed his hair back out of his face and grit his teeth as the shorter pieces instantly flew back into his eyes. Scanning the email, Mello suddenly understood why he had been chosen and not one of the many other 'employees' Rod had. It was an assassination.
And Mello excelled at those. Regardless of his temper, he wasn't stupid enough to let it get the better of him when it truly mattered. At least not since he first set out of Wammy's. Mello pushed the thought of Rhodes monitoring him to the back of his mind; the assassination was time sensitive, and he was already behind according to the email.
Oh yes, welcome back to L.A. indeed.
.
.
The man in question was at home in his study, as per usual at that time of the evening. Now, one might think it would be an easy in and out assignment. Problem was Mello couldn't get inside, and the man frequently left his study for some reason or another.
Mello had to kill him before he finished deals with a client. Rod wanted him dead before he could gain any more influence. That was fine with Mello; he didn't particularly care what the reasons were.
The best position would be outside the study's window in which he would have around forty seconds before the guard came back from his other inspections. Mello had read it in the email's information but had just confirmed it himself.
There were guards everywhere, but each of them had been accounted for in the email, and Mello was now confidant in the source. Mello shifted in his position and wished it wasn't so disgustingly hot out. It made his hair stick to his skull in messy tangled sweaty clumps. His leather was uncomfortable, distracting even, and made him itch in odd places.
He scurried across the lawn and hid behind what looked like a small house, probably just a tool shed or specialty garage. Mello breathed quietly, even though his muscles burned form the crouched position he was in, he did not move. He waited exactly ten minutes, peaking around the corner for a split second to make sure the guard hadn't been held up, then ran to the tree just before the siding of the house.
Mello almost swore as he noted the man wasn't in his study. He had known it was a possibility, but he hated things not going to plan. It was at fifteen seconds in before he heard motion inside as well as the man's soothing words to what sounded like a child. Shit. His kid was in there with him. Mello noted how the man's bulking silhouette seated itself in a chair. Mello was already doing the calculations in his head for the needed adjustments and angle of the gun for it to hit him.
Child or not, Mello had a job.
The child was sobbing, and Mello could just barely make out "there was something inside my room, and it tried to grab me!" He narrowed his eyes. It smelled of setup to him. There were just too many odd inconsistencies with this job already. It might be a test. Though to what end, Mello couldn't figure.
He glanced at his watch and sucked in a small breath of the heavy air. He only had about twenty seconds left.
Mello carefully slinked the last few feet from the tree to the house and pressed his back against the siding with the gun raised to his chest. He had one shot at this. Letting out a breath, Mello leapt from the safety of the building and fired.
Glass shattered, and Mello stayed only long enough to check that the bullet had indeed hit its mark right between the man's eyes. His daughter screamed and was shouting for her papa in seconds. Mello heard the security racing towards the room and pushed his legs harder as he retreated. His job was complete so the next step was to get out alive. He had to minimize collateral damage, as anymore lives weren't part of the deal. He might be good at killing, but it didn't mean he enjoyed it.
Luckily, he only encountered the guard coming from behind the small shed. He was silenced with a bullet in his neck, and Mello continued on before the entire place was put on lock-down.
All the estate's lighting was on, and Mello was all too aware of the shadows his figure cast as he ran for his motorcycle. Running across the lawn was tiring, and it seemed they had a mole or groundhog problem because he kept tripping on their damn sinkholes.
Mello almost made it out, but the earth beneath his foot collapsed and he fell. His leg was halfway into the ground in some tunnel, and his ankle smarted. Cursing Mello hauled himself to a stand and ignored the shooting pain from his leg as best he could.
Next time they could do a fucking ground search. He was not going to get caught because of some groundhog.
-End Part 5-
AN: Bad me? I have had the edits sitting in my inbox since october and just now fixed them up...oops? Been busy with work, drama at work, almost quitting because of utter crap at work, and I really just haven't felt up to doing anything. I know its no excuse but I figure I owed an explanation XD
Special Thanks to Reviewers: Deadly Nightshade1395, Catotolgist, climbingVENTS, issagokurosaki, mxmsupporter, brightnight003, Keono
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