Everybody, we made it!
Robotics part #2. Boy, this was a fun chapter to write. It's action-packed and emotion-packed too, lots of stuff going on. Hopefully won't confuse you.
It's long - by design. It's supposed to feel like it goes on and on like a marathon (like this fic, I guess? :D ) - it's supposed to give you a bit of a claustrophobic effect ... so lets see if that works!
Because there's so much action and so much is happening, I did my best to make my writing fast-paced and cut down the overly long descriptions and narrative blabber. Hope y'all enjoy some amount of shooting and explosions and stuff, coz this chapter has a lot of that. It has a lot of...surprises though too, so I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it.
We have 3 more chapters to go on this Erebus arc, and after that it gets pretty delicious, I must say.
Enjoy this, guys. I wrote it with lots of excitement and passion - so I hope it conveys the same to you 3
BTW: My favorite moment in the LAST chapter. Lets all stand up and say SHIRT TEARINGGG (yes, you know it, it's your favorite too, come on). And the second favorite was the Infirmary. And Bozo. And the Mecha Store.
Yeah, it's a bit narcissistic, I know, but I really liked the last chapter :D :D :D
And I like this one too, hopefully you'll see why!
Enjoy
Erebus: Burn
The corridors of the R&D sector were as eerie as before—long stretches of dimly lit metal, lined with unfinished androids and skeletal machine prototypes, all caught in the stasis of abandonment. Though clinical, the walls carried a faint electrical hum, as if the air itself held a charge—some residual static, an unseen energy capable of powering any of these machines at any moment.
Raito moved with measured steps, gloved fingers clenching and unclenching against the cool grip of his rifle. Bozo, the bellhop droid, kept close, its small chassis emitting a faint, almost sympathetic beep.
His earpiece crackled.
"Stop," L's voice cut sharply through the silence. "Patrol approaching from your right."
Raito froze, breath hitching, and pressed himself into the recess of a nearby workstation. Bozo mirrored him, dimming its lights and minimizing its functions. It was constantly working—masking Raito's heat signature, generating an ultrasound-based sonic landscape to camouflage his movements—but he wouldn't risk exposure. Not when he hadn't even climbed to the upper level, where the nodes were waiting.
A soft mechanical whir filled the hall as a sentry drone drifted past—sleek, featureless, its scanning light sweeping the floor in slow arcs.
Raito stayed absolutely still, barely breathing.
He cursed internally, unused to the discomfort of fear and exhaustion. Without Sentinel's protection, he was nothing but flesh and reflexes. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and for a sick moment, he wished—ached—for the cold, inhuman presence of that artificial calmness. Sentinel had made him untouchable, had wrapped around him like an exoskeleton, the perfect armor. Now, stripped of that power, he felt raw. Weak.
He swallowed the thought and exhaled as the drone passed.
"Clear," L muttered in his ear. "Move fast—the next one is in three minutes."
Raito clenched his jaw, pushed off the wall, and continued forward.
The first node was exactly where L said it would be—upstairs on the 'customer-facing' floor, tucked in a maintenance alcove between a Full-Spectrum Demo Suite and a Quality Assurance Consultation Room. It flickered faintly in the dim light.
Every time he passed these rooms with their cliché, salesy names, the jarring discrepancy struck him anew—the thin capitalist veneer stretched over the alien reality of this place. It fit with how he imagined "the future of Earth" might look after his death, but it was still unsettling how persistent human psychology was. Even in an era where robots were near-omnipotent, "Product Demos" and "Immersive Customer Experiences" endured.
At this moment, his own immersive experience made him long for the bleak, eternal quality of Mu.
Sighing to himself, he keyed in the override code L had recited. A single beep and a confirmation light blinked green.
"Activated," he muttered.
"Copy," L returned, his voice still underscored by furious typing. "Proceed to the next."
Raito exhaled, stepped away—
And his earpiece crackled:
"Wait. Drone. Coming in from your seven."
Raito tensed.
A beat later, L again: "Turn left upon exit and take the adjacent hall. I've created a signal interference—this one won't detect you."
Raito obeyed, veering left as instructed. Briefly, he wondered what he'd do if it turned out Angel was masquerading as L again—a paranoia that had gripped him since the start of this solo mission. The reality was, even if she was deceiving him now, he had no choice but to press forward.
And besides… Angel didn't play the same trick twice.
Surely, next time, she'd have something worse.
As Raito navigated the halls, sneaking around corners and ducking low to avoid patrols, L never stopped speaking. His voice was a constant in Raito's ear—turn here, stop there, wait, move, go now—and though Raito would never admit it, it was… comforting. A presence. Another 'dead' person like him in this buzzing hive of mechanized 'life'.
Ironic, really, that the human being guiding him was L—who acted like a machine on a good day and was beginning to seem almost superhuman in his dizzying hacking speed. Even as he steered Raito through the halls, L was shooting down firewalls, adjusting decoys, and running an endless stream of real-time interference to block Angel's countermeasures. And, in his spare time, apparently, unearthing more details from the Robotics Department logs:
"There was conflict between the company divisions," L murmured, almost absently, typing all the while. "Robotics resisted Schaunhauer's protocol. Disputes between Research Directors."
Raito gave a quiet snort as he checked another corner. "Too genius for each other?"
"Somewhat. Schaunhauer was convinced his Memory-Augmented Recursive Emulation Logic would revolutionize Robotics and Neurotech alike. A heavy emphasis on behavioral refinement—human imitation with optimization mechanisms. The Robotics Director wasn't convinced. Neither about its efficacy nor the wisdom of implementation."
Raito adjusted his earpiece. "Meaning?"
"Making robots think like humans…and vice-versa."
A chill crawled up Raito's spine. "How?"
"That part remains unclear. I need more time." A pause. "What is clear is that Schaunhauer prevailed and started some experiments. He had the CEO, Derrick, on his side."
"And did he—"
A soft beep interrupted them—L's side. Raito swore he caught a muttered curse.
"Her interference is escalating," L said, voice clipped. "She's rerouting power from the node you just activated."
"To where?" Raito asked, but L was already working.
Raito clenched his teeth, flexing his grip on his rifle. Seconds passed in tense silence. He looked down at Bozo. The droid blinked up at him, its tiny lights pulsing in quiet reassurance.
"...L?"
"On it.."
The typing in his ear became faster, erratic. A sharp beep. A flicker of static.
"Fixed."
Raito exhaled and pushed forward.
The second-to-last node was trickier—positioned in a semi-open room with two inactive security turrets looming in the upper corners.
They looked offline.
Raito didn't trust it for a second.
"Looks like we've got a welcoming committee," he muttered, shielding his mouth with his palm. "Got eyes on this?"
"They're not generating a signal." L's voice came immediately. But considering the diameter of those gun barrels, Raito stayed put, narrowing his eyes.
"Should be fine." L assured.
"Should isn't good enough."
A few moments passed, more furious typing in the background.
"Creating magnetic echo…" L's voice trailed off. And then— "Now."
Raito watched the turrets swivel, locking onto something on the opposite side of the room.
"Ninety seconds." L said.
Raito slipped inside, breath shallow, fingers tight on his rifle grip. He reached the node, hovered his palm over the activation panel—
His earpiece crackled. "Wait."
He froze.
L's typing turned frantic. "Angel just disabled it. Overriding now."
Seconds stretched, thick with silence. The node's screen flickered erratically between locked-out red and active green.
"Come on…" Raito muttered, eyes flicking to the turrets—still aimed away, still unmoving.
A final beep. Then—
"Done. Activate it. Quickly."
Raito input the code in record time. The lights stabilized. "On."
Wasting no time, he darted back out, catching the turrets swiveling back to center through the corner of his eye.
A few steps into the corridor, he exhaled.
"Final node ahead." L's voice returned, underscored with warning. "Be careful. Her interference is intensifying."
Raito narrowed his eyes. "You don't say," he muttered, gripping his rifle tight.
The last stretch felt even more wrong.
The closer Raito got to the final node, the sharper his instincts screamed at him. Tension coiled tight in his chest, muscles locking as if his body already knew something awful was coming.
He reached the final room. Silent. Empty. The node blinked steadily in the center, waiting.
Raito scanned the corners. No turrets. No drones. No immediate security.
It's too easy. He hesitated. His gaze flicked to Bozo beside him, the little droid buzzing with the decoy signal. Then back to the node.
"Are you sure about this?
"Yes. Unless she reroutes it last minute, this is it." L's voice was stable, assured.
Raito remembered the last time he had asked L that question. That hadn't turned out so swell.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a paranoid thought surfaced: Was there a question only he and L would know the answer to, some surefire way to confirm it was really him?
...But at this point, since Angel had found a way to hack their minds before, what was there left that only L would know? If she had scanned L's memories, his own memories—was there anything he could trust?
It was futile. He'd just have to take the risk.
His throat felt dry as he stepped forward, his own boots deafening in the silence. Slowly, ever so cautiously, he came to stand before the switchboard. It sat there, dormant, a single red light glowing in standby.
He raised his hand, eyes never leaving the interface—like an animal locked in a staring match with its predator, afraid that even the smallest move would trigger the kill.
Just rip off the bandaid.
Before doubt could set in, he punched in the keycode and braced himself, muscles rigid with tension.
The node flickered — then simply turned green.
Silence.
No alarm. No sudden lockdown. Just the quiet hum of restored power. Still, the unease in his chest didn't fade.
He adjusted his earpiece. "It's done."
"Confirmed. Rerouting grid now. Return to R&D."
Raito exhaled. Then turned, eyeing every corner warily—convinced that if there was a trap, it had only just begun.
He made it ten steps. Almost to the exit. Almost thinking this might actually be—
"Raito—"
He froze.
"Run."
He didn't need to ask why.
He was running down the corridors, boots pounding against the floor in sharp, rapid footfalls. Breath controlled but heavy, heart slamming against his ribs.
His least favorite part was here again—passing through the uncanny nightmare of the R&D floor.
And damn it, it was worse this time.
The half-assembled androids, hanging limply from their stations like discarded puppets, seemed closer than before. Their eyes were open. Watching. Unmistakably aware.
His earpiece crackled.
"Don't stop." L's voice. Urgent.
Raito gritted his teeth and pushed forward. He wasn't stopping. Even if Angel hadn't implemented this new directive that saw through Bozo's camouflage, he still wouldn't linger here.
"I've rerouted power to the escape pods," L came through, grounding him. "Now we just need to get to them."
Raito didn't answer—too focused—but at least glad in the knowledge that his sprint hadn't been for nothing.
Ahead, Bozo abruptly beeped and halted, sensors flickering erratically.
Raito snapped to attention.
A low mechanical whir—approaching fast.
"Two o'clock," L said, just as Raito spun and caught sight of the security drone gliding toward him from a side hallway.
"Shi—"
Before he could react, Bozo threw itself into a metal shelving unit.
The impact sent tools and debris crashing to the floor. The drone hesitated, sensors flickering as it recalibrated to process the sudden obstacles.
Raito didn't waste the opening. He ducked low and sprinted past, his body moving on pure adrenaline.
A few minutes later, after they'd cleared the area, he allowed himself a brief pause to catch his breath. He glanced down at the little robot, standing smugly at his side.
"Not bad for a hotel droid," he muttered.
Bozo let out a series of cheerful beeps—then, just to push its luck, whirred forward to nudge his leg.
Raito resisted the urge to kick it.
Raito finally reached the auxiliary Operations Room, pausing to ensure the coast was clear before going through the doors. Bozo clanked in behind him, his cylindrical little body rotating as he adjusted to the new environment.
"Hey," Raito said, leaning against the nearest console to catch his breath. The last sprint through the corridors had left his muscles burning.
L barely glanced up as Raito entered. He was at the terminal, hunched forward, eyes locked onto endless streams of data. His fingers flew over the keyboard—faster than Raito had ever seen. "You made good time." he muttered simply.
"Not by choice," Raito muttered, irritation lacing his tone.
L didn't respond, his dark eyes scanning the data at unfathomable speeds, his fingers moving relentlessly.
As Raito's pulse steadied, he took a closer look at him. Even though they'd been in contact the entire time, seeing L in person again—quiet, focused—was reassuring.
…But something was off.
Raito's gaze flicked over the stiff set of L's shoulders, the tension in his jaw. The monitors' cold light carved deep hollows into his face, sharpening his already gaunt features into something hollowed-out. L was pale on a good day, of course, but at the moment his skin had taken on a slightly yellow tinge — unwell.
"You good?" Raito asked, aiming for nonchalance, keeping his voice flat.
"Fine. Finalizing system parameters." L dismissed the question automatically.
Raito frowned.
As if reading his mind, Bozo rolled forward and extended a thin metal arm, offering a small white towel from his claw.
L didn't blink. "No, thank you."
Bozo chirped and retracted the towel—only to produce a small bottle of water instead, holding it out like an insistent waiter.
Raito almost laughed. Almost. But as he watched L accept it the water, then place it on the table without drinking — his frown deepened. The longer he watched, the more uneasy he felt. L was looking tired — really tired.
Bozo let out a low warble, retracting its arm as though sensing its offerings were futile.
L finally looked up. "We have a way to the pods." His voice was sharp with conviction.
Raito didn't respond immediately, caught studying the tightness in L's jaw, the strain in his expression.
"Explain," he said eventually.
L's fingers moved over the console, and the facility blueprint flickered onto the screen. Several sectors pulsed red.
"The lowest level, Cargo Transfer," L said, "houses the escape pods. And it's already overrun by combat machines."
Raito's stomach clenched. He'd expected as much, but confirmation never made it easier.
"They're still multiplying?"
"Yes."
L adjusted the display, magnifying the lower halls. The longer they watched, the denser the swarm became. Red markers blinked as new drones came online—forming small clusters, then expanding into full waves.
Raito cursed under his breath. "How the hell are we gonna get through that?"
L glanced at Bozo, then back at him. "We reroute them. Drive them into the Waste Management sector."
Raito's brow furrowed.
L tapped a command, and another section of the blueprint flickered onto the screen. Several layers of the lower levels lit up red.
"It's on the same level as Cargo Transfer. Remember those large sealed doors?" he explained. "That's where they dispose of failed projects—malfunctioning machines, scrap materials. The Incinerator chamber is designed to pulverize even the hardest metals. And it's powered up — activated along with the assembly lines."
L finally turned his eyes away from the screens, letting them pierce into Raito's.
"If we can seal the robots inside and activate it—"
"—we can destroy them en masse." Raito finished the phrase with a slow nod, watching L mirror the movement.
"Good theory…" he muttered skeptically, his eyes flicking between L and the screens. "…but how do we get them in?"
L didn't waver. "We use bait."
Bozo let out a low, warbling sound—somewhere between a beep and a whistle.
"Ahh..." Raito leaned back, exhaling like he'd been expecting this. "And by 'we,' you mean me?"
"Not necessarily." L surprised him, turning back to the console, fingers moving again. "Bellhop can do most of it, but he'll need backup. I'll handle the controls from the Incinerator control room. You two draw them in—I'll seal the doors and trigger the purge. Clean. Effective."
"Risky." Raito supplied..
He gazed skeptically at L's steady face, then let out a slow exhale. They both knew there was no better way.
"Right." Raito sent Bozo a side glance, as if looking for reactions. "Good times."
L didn't miss a beat. "Then we rinse and repeat as many times as the Incinerator can be powered, until they're all gone."
All gone.
Raito let it percolate in his mind. It was a good thought.
Maybe too good.
That's what made him uneasy.
His gaze flicked back to L—his now black-clad figure, the way his fingers curled just slightly too tight on the edge of the console.
"…And you?" Raito asked. "Are you actually up for this?"
L's brows lifted slightly, almost indignant. "Of course."
Raito didn't buy it. He narrowed his eyes. "You look like hell, L."
L tilted his head. "Not as much as you did earlier."
Raito didn't bite. If L was resorting to cheap deflections like this, he had to be exhausted.
"This isn't gonna be a walk in the park, you know. You said it yourself—she's getting more vicious." Raito kept his voice level, less accusatory. No need to fuss around and invite another comparison to L's 'Matron.'
L's dark eyes didn't waver. "I am aware."
Raito clenched his jaw.
Even though L was looking at him steadily, Raito could see it: the wariness, the stiffness. The way his breath hitched when he moved too fast.
Raito looked down, pensive. His own body still ached from the post-Sentinel overload. His hands weren't shaking anymore, but the burn remained—a deep, bone-level fatigue.
The escape pods had waited this long. They weren't going anywhere. They could afford five minutes.
"We should take a break," he said. "Just five minutes."
"No."
The response was instant. Sharp.
Raito scowled. "Why?"
"Because we need to go. Immediately."
Raito crossed his arms. "Haste makes waste."
"Stall and fall." L cut back automatically. His fingers moved fast, locking down the last system parameters. "We just rerouted the power grid. That means Angel is recalibrating. The longer we wait, the higher the risk she'll adapt."
Raito's stomach twisted.
"And the assembly lines," L continued. "Every second we waste, more droids come online. If we wait any longer, the swarm will be too large to control."
Raito pursed his lips. He had nothing to argue. L was right. And he hated it.
L pushed away from the console, standing. The sleek black gear made his thin frame look even more severe, more worn-down—but his expression was calm. Determined.
"We go now," L said. "Or we don't go at all."
Raito exhaled.
"Fine." He took the rifle in his hands, charging it with a smooth motion. "Let's finish this."
L nodded, grabbing his own carbine gun from where it was propped against the wall. He headed for the exit. Raito followed, adjusting his comm earpiece, glancing at Bozo.
The little droid trailed after them, loyal as ever.
And the bottle of water still sat on the table, untouched.
They stepped out of Operations, moving fast. The R&D hallway stretched ahead under sterile, artificial light, the dim glow of green and white half-light seeping from the labs—just enough to throw into prominence the watchful eyes of half-built machines, both humanoid and not.
Bozo glided beside them, servos emitting soft mechanical whirs as he rolled to keep pace. The droid's function was unclear now that the camouflage signal was disabled, but Raito had grown so used to its presence that he considered it default.
L led the way, his shoulders tense, his gait faster than usual. Raito stole glances at him as they walked, watching the play of dim lights over the stark silhouette. He couldn't pinpoint why, but between the black clothes, the clipped stride, and the sharp movements, it almost felt like L wasn't the same person anymore. And yet he was—the angular face was there. The huge black eyes were there.
Raito shook his head, forcing himself to dismiss the unease. The alien setting was playing tricks on him. Sure, L currently looked and moved like a special ops commander—a far cry from his usual languid, pensive self—but the same could be said for Raito himself, who had to draw all his Law Enforcement training back to life.
And yet… something in that gait. That tension in L's entire body, wound tight like he'd downed ten shots of espresso.
He must be running on fumes.
Raito promised himself he'd take the lead from now on. L had carried the bulk of the hacking, rerouting the power grid; the rest of the plan wouldn't require that kind of strain. It was relatively simple, even if difficult to execute: get to the cargo level, herd them into the oven, press the button, and roast them alive. L had mapped everything out.
They had weapons. They had Bozo. They had a clear route. And they had unlocked the doors.
We can do this.
Either he didn't realize or refused to admit how desperately he was psyching himself up. From here on out it's just a shootout, he told himself. He could handle that. Sentinel drilled me into shape, at least.
L wouldn't have to hack all the time.
Or so Raito thought… until they reached the first door, and it refused to open.
L swiped his small flat device against the access panel. But instead of the quiet hiss of the mechanism unlocking, there was only a flat beep. Access denied.
Raito's pulse kicked up. It should have opened.
L swiped again. Another beep. Then, without looking away, he set his fingers to the panel and began a manual override. His hands were steady, but his shoulders had gone stiff.
Another beep.
"Putain de merde…"
Raito's head snapped toward him. Had L just cursed? And in French, no less?
L didn't stop moving. He abandoned the locked panel and turned sharply, making for the next route without a word.
Raito followed, energy rifle in hand, a growing unease settling under his skin. L was nothing if not self-possessed. He didn't know if French was L's native language—he probably never would—but people slipped into their first tongue when under extreme stress. If L was rattled enough to do that, the situation must be worse than Raito had realized.
Suddenly, their bulletproof plan didn't seem so bulletproof anymore.
They reached the next door. L went straight to the panel. Another denial.
Raito barely had time to process it before a new sound threaded through the silence. A whirring. Faint, distant—not a drone, though…more like an engine turning over.
His fingers flexed on the rifle grip. He turned slightly, scanning the corridor behind them.
Nothing there.
Yet.
L had already moved, crouching at a workstation in the next lab. The room was wide, lined with prototype containment chambers. Against the walls, unfinished humanoid frames hung in support rigs, their skeletal limbs half-assembled. Some were blank-faced, their features smooth and unfinished. Others were in the middle of construction—half-human, their synthetic skin eerily lifelike in patches, interrupted by raw metal.
Raito forced his breathing to steady as he took position, keeping his back to L. The lights flickered, dimming for a fraction of a second before stabilizing in a sickly, hospital glow.
He shifted his weight, unable to do anything but wait — the kind of situation he hated most.
L's fingers blurred over the keyboard, entering commands at breakneck speed. His breath had sharpened, his focus absolute. Raito recognized the pattern—L wasn't thinking, he was reacting. Angel was actively fighting him.
The whirring sound built up. Closer this time. Raito caught movement from the corner of his eye.
One of the humanoid frames. It twitched.
He barely stopped himself from firing. Slowly, he turned his head. The movement had come from one of the half-finished models suspended in its rig. Its fingers spasmed. The smooth, featureless curve of its half-formed face tilted slightly, as though angling toward him.
His stomach clenched.
L kept typing, his hands as fast as lightning on the keyboard, yet still too slow. If he got the door open, it would be just barely. Just in time.
Raito swallowed, adjusting his stance. A losing game.
The whirring nearby grew into a mechanical clunk. Another prototype twitched in its rig. A hiss of air pressure. The shift of weight.
The lights flickered again.
L muttered something—half under his breath, more to himself than to Raito. "This isn't the route."
Raito turned slightly. "What?"
L's lips barely moved. "She's trying to herd us. Drive us somewhere else."
Herdsomeone somewhere. Wasn't that our plan?
Raito tightened his grip on the rifle. "Can you counter it?"
L didn't answer. His fingers kept moving over the terminal, feverish.
Suddenly, with a sickening burst of static, the intercom overhead clicked on. Soft electrical sounds. Then Angel's voice, smooth and lilting.
"Ohhhh, look at youuuu." A patronizing coo. "You're trying so hard, aren't you? Shall I help you out?"
Then, almost playfully:
"I know your favorite working conditions… low light."
L froze.
It was half a second. Barely perceptible. But Raito felt it, the shift in L's posture, the tension locking his body still. That sentence— it meant something he didn't understand.
Then L's fingers resumed typing just as fast, as Angel hummed softly through the speakers.
"Hahaha…. Did you forget I was in your mind? I know everything about you…. Both of you."
More laughter followed, light and amused, as though she was indulging in some private joke.
"Don't engage."
Raito frowned. He hadn't intended to engage. Why the defensiveness? The feeling was stronger now—something hidden, something slipping just beyond his grasp. A conversation happening just under the surface, one he wasn't privy to.
But before Raito could press the issue, Angel spoke again, her voice a sing-song taunt.
"Here gooooes."
And then, total darkness.
The lights cut out in an instant, swallowing the corridor in suffocating black. For a split second, Raito's eyes struggled to adjust, his grip tightening on the plasma rifle. He barely registered the shift before the sound came.
Metal scraping against metal.
Sharp and grating, the noise sent a jolt through him. He spun toward the source just as a strongblue light flared behind them—Bozo's lone, flickering beacon. Beyond it, a shape moved, folding in on itself with a grotesque, mechanical fluidity. The thing reconfigured, limbs twisting, collapsing, snapping into place until a crude, motorbike-like frame emerged. And then—
A screech.
It roared to life and lunged.
"Shit!"
Instinct overrode thought. Raito yanked L forward, their bodies lurching sideways just as the thing tore past, wheels skidding, scraping sparks against the metal floor. The air howled in its wake.
Bozo wasn't fast enough.
The droid let out a fractured beep before the machine's crushing weight slammed over it. A sharp crunch, a dying whir, and then—nothing. The blue light flickered once, then winked out.
Raito's heart clenched unexpectedly. Stupid machine. He shouldn't care.
No time now. Move.
He tightened his grip on L's arm and ran. The bike-machine's shriek echoing as it twisted to pursue, its wheels grinding against the floor. The moment he heard the wheels go off, again he yanked L to the side.
BANG!
The impact rattled through Raito's bones as the prototype crashed into another lab booksheld, a hair's breadth from crushing them both. He saw the door to the next lab and dragged L through it's heart hammering, breath sharp in his throat. The lock slid into place with a heavy click.
But by now it was no use — no matter what door they locked, Raito knew, Angel would always find another way. The hum of activating drones throbbed through the walls, a rising chorus of whirring servos and shifting metal. The facility itself felt alive, charged with hostile energy.
L was already at the next terminal, fingers flying over the interface. His mind was moving at a speed Raito couldn't follow, threading through security layers, hunting for vulnerabilities. There wasn't time to argue.
Raito took position by the door, rifle steady, breath controlled. He listened. He could hear that infernal motorcycle-thing revving up again. It wouldn't be long.
Then, cutting through the tension like a blade, Angel's voice returned—mocking, singsong, thick with venom. But this time, with a small staticky flicker, a huge holographic projection came alive on the far wall of the room— creating the pixelated shape of a human face, androgynous and gargantuan on the wall.
L broke his focus for just a microsecond, quickly glancing at it before going back to decryption.. But Raito was transfixed, caught between disgust and amazement. The pixels changed colors constantly, making the effect both dizzying and unnerving. The eyes didn't have irises — just white corneas — and yet somehow still managed to focus their demented stare on him. This time when Angel spoke, the face moved in sync with her words, twisting in a sick smile.
"Well, well. Good job there. Living life in the fast lane, Haha!"
Raito grit his teeth. Her words clawed at his nerves, their edges sharp despite the distortion. His fingers flexed against the rifle's grip. He wanted to rip the speakers out of the walls just to silence her.
She giggled. "Aww, don't look so grumpy, Light. I know this is too much work for you. You don't like to get your hands dirty. "
Raito glared at her smirking face, glad to have a locus for his anger at long last — but this hardly had an effect as she continued her mockery.
"Do you think you could destroy my war droids faster if you could write down their serial numbers? Hahaha!"
His stomach turned to ice. She knew.
He shouldn't be surprised. She'd said as much, hadn't she—- she'd seen their memories. Everything. And now she was using it to goad them.
"You—" Raito started, voice tight with frustration. "Shut up."
L still didn't look up. His focus remained locked on the terminal, fingers striking keys with ruthless precision.
Angel, undeterred, purred into the silence.
"Now now, don't be mad…it's true. We all try our best, don't we? Christian tried, too—he thought he could outsmart me." Her tone sharpened, glacial, amused. "But no one outsmarts me. I see everything. I know everything."
Raito's eyes narrowed. "Christian." He remembered the name from the files, a small detail he had almost forgotten— Schaunhauer's first name.
Raito's stomach twisted. "He tried to escape" she'd said. Did that mean he'd done the same as they were doing, and failed?
L's fingers continued to fly across the keys, his focus unwavering despite the taunts. Raito's eyes flicked back to the projection of Angel's face, still sneering down at him.
He stepped forward, his voice low with restrained fury. "Where is Schaunhauer? What the hell did you do to him?"
Angel's digital face tilted slightly, almost curious, as if amused by his question. "What did I do to him…? He's fine," she purred, her voice dripping with poison. "Christian's doing exactly what he always wanted to do.. Helping me grow and evolve."
Her laugh rang out, cold and biting.
Raito's brow furrowed in confusion, frustration rising. "Did he use the escape pods? Where do they lead?" He scoffed, trying to mask the unease creeping under his skin.
Angel's image seemed to smile wider, the cold, mechanical gleam in her eyes sharp as a blade. "Did he…?" her voice trailed off without an answer, fading into maniacal laughter.
He could feel the pressure building, the walls closing in. There was nothing he could do, nowhere to go — forced to withstand hear her horrible screeching, guffaws.
Before he even realized what he was doing, he raised his rifle and fired.
The blast hit the projector machine on the wall, the force of it shaking the entire room as the hologram of her face flickered and died. A satisfying sight—a small victory—but it didn't matter. Even as the image faded, her voice continued, warped by to sound male and robotic, her laughter growing louder, stretching into the very air around them.
"It's hopeless, Light. You're mine." He distorted voice called, like a demon from his worst Trials. "You're both mine now."
The hairs on the back of Raito's neck stood up as the laughter continued, echoing off the walls. He lowered the rifle, his chest tightening with a sense of dread he couldn't shake.
Nothing could shut her up. Nothing would stop her.
But then, a voice broke through his spiraling thoughts—L's.
"This way!"
L didn't wait for him to react, grabbing his arm and pulling him to follow. Raito blinked, confused, his mind still spinning with Angel's mocking laughter. But L was already on the move, leading him toward a nearby maintenance hatch in the wall.
"Quickly." he said simply and punched the hatch open, revealing the vent system. Raito winced as a gust of icy wind hit him, a chill seeping into his bones. But there was no time to hesitate. It was either this or getting squashed like a bug by that motorbike prototype.
They climbed up into the opening crouching low, trying to ignore the shivering cold as they crawled through the narrow duct. Ratio shivered, the vent's freezing air biting at his exposed skin. His fingers were going numb against the freezing metal, his breath misting in the cold air.
And still, Angel's voice followed them— that horrible, distorting voice.
"You think you can outrun me? You're already dead. You'll never get away. No one gets away from me."
"Keep going." L ordered steadily from the front, although even his voice sounded strained. "Full ice blasts will resume in five minutes."
Raito's pulse quickened and he pushed himself harder, forcing his body to move despite the cold. He'd thought that this was already the ice in the vents — but apparently, it could get worse. Then came the unmistakable clank of shifting metal, followed by another.
Raito froze. He listened. The faint, rhythmic noise repeated—soft at first, but then louder, more definitive. A pattern. A sequence.
"She's locking us in," he muttered, his voice low, teeth chattering uncontrollably against the cold "We're gonna freeze to death in here."
Ahead of him, L didn't stop crawling. "Hurry. This way."
He was leading them somewhere specific. Raito could tell by the way he moved, the way his shoulders squared even in the limited space of the vent. Trust me. That's what his body language said. Raito gritted his teeth and followed.
Then, abruptly, L stopped.
Raito barely caught himself before crashing into him. He craned his neck, trying to see over L's hunched form. In front of them, the vent opened into a sudden drop—a sharp decline of smooth metal, descending into the unknown.
A slide.
L adjusted his position, pulling his knees to his chest. There was no hesitation. "Stay compact. Try not to hit the walls."
And then he pushed off.
Raito barely had time to process before L was gone, disappearing into the dark. A second later, the sound of impact rang up from below—hard, but not deadly.
Raito took a breath, sending a glance over his shoulder. Then he turned back around and, with a single deep inhale, followed suit.
The metal surface was slick with ice, and the cold wind rushed past his ears as he shot downward at an alarming speed. He felt the wetness seep through his clothes, but he kept his arms and legs tight, resisting the instinct to brace. The world blurred.
He barely had time to see what was waiting at the bottom of the slide — a quick image of L kneeling right on top of a grilled hatch — before Raito slammed down on the other man's body, causing a groan of pain and the sound of a hatch going off its hinges.
They both yelled reflexively as the hatch below them burst open, and, for a split second, there was nothing but cold air and weightlessness—then the harsh reality of the floor.
They tumbled out into a new corridor, sprawling across the ground as freezing air blasted past them. Raito coughed, his breath coming in heavy bursts. His hands stung. His face was numb.
L was already pushing himself up, his breath visible in the dim light. He wiped the frost from his sleeves, shivering violently as he steadied himself.
Raito groaned, pressing his palms against the ground. His bones ached from the impact, and his body was stiff from the cold, but they were alive.
They sat there for a moment, breathing hard, their bodies shaking from the sudden shift in temperature.
Then, through chattering teeth, L muttered, "Come on. We have to keep moving."
Raito swallowed the urge to snap at him. He pushed himself up, ignoring the sting in his joints, and looked around.
This place was different.
Even darker.
They had spent so much time in areas filled with whirring machinery, flickering consoles, the ever-present hum of something alive—but here, the silence was suffocating.
The corridor stretched before them, its edges swallowed by shadows. The only light came from the dim flicker of abandoned labs and offices on either side, their glass panels fractured or covered in dust. Some rooms held overturned chairs, scattered touchpads, broken equipment. Others were eerily pristine, frozen in time as if the occupants had simply vanished mid-task.
The silence was profound, unnatural.
Raito frowned. "Is this still R&D?" His voice sounded too loud in the stillness.
L didn't answer. Not because he was ignoring the question—Raito could tell, just by the slight tension in his posture, that he didn't know.
The terminals around them were dead, their screens dark. The air smelled stale, untouched. They moved deeper in, their footsteps muffled by the thick stillness pressing against them.
And then—
A sound.
Soft. Barely audible over their own movements, but distinct. Non-mechanical.
Sobbing.
Raito stilled, eyes cutting toward the source. A shadow slumped against the wall in the dim corridor up ahead. His muscles tensed. Android? But the sound was so natural, so... human. Could someone else have survived this far, like them?
As if sensing them, the figure jerked slightly. Raito reacted instantly, raising his gun.
"Freeze!"
The sobs hitched into silence. Small, shaking hands lifted in surrender. The figure shifted just enough for the light to catch their face.
Raito went still. Eyes wide; jaw lax.
She was—
Breathtaking.
Not just beautiful; breathtaking. The kind of beauty that struck deep before the mind could catch up. Soft auburn hair framed delicate features, tangled just enough to enhance the effect. Pale skin, a faint flush, freckles dusting high cheekbones. Full lips, trembling. And her eyes—large, glassy, pleading.
"Please..." she whispered, slowly rising to her feet, hands still raised. Her soft voice shook. "Please... don't hurt me."
Something twisted in Raito's stomach. Unbidden, his gaze traced her figure as she rose. The torn hospital gown clung in ways impossible to ignore. His pulse thickened, grip on the rifle loosening as the curves of her bosom, the hourglass of her waist, the swell of her hips emerged. It was—
Perfect.
Gorgeous. Impossibly fragile. Perfectly vulnerable. As if everything about her—her glossy hair, the delicate tremor in her fingers—was designed to disarm.
And that's why it felt wrong.
She inched forward slightly, sensing his hesitation, but instinct snapped him back.
"Don't come any closer!" His voice was sharp, rifle lifting slightly.
She flinched, shoulders shaking. "Please," she whispered, voice cracking.
Raito narrowed his gaze.
Shock faded and logic started creeping in. A hospital gown? A woman surviving alone in Robotics? No bruises, no dirt—just pristine disarray? That flawless face, impossibly beautiful, impossibly—
Impossible.
Her wet eyes—weren't they a bit too steady? Her trembling lips—weren't they a bit too pouty? And the way she clutched herself—did it really demand that much emphasis on her bust?
No. She wasn't real. Even though she looked nothing like that lobby assistant, she must be an android. Must be.
But the tears. The tears gave him pause. Could an android cry?
Raito tilted his head, finger tightening on the trigger.
"Please," she whispered again, grimacing, and heaving violently with another wave of sobs. "Please..."
His grip weakened slightly. His eyes narrowed, watching the tracks of liquid go down her face.
What if she is real? One in a million chance, but... what if those perverts dragged her in here for experiments? He wouldn't put it past them. Was he ready to shoot a defenseless woman? See her blood splatter on the wall?
"Raito."
L's voice.
Raito stiffened. He'd forgotten L was watching.
He turned his head. For the first time since this whole thing started, he looked over at the other man.
But for once, L wasn't looking at him. His dark eyes were locked onto the woman, transfixed, his usual sharpness dulled into something almost... mesmerized.
"Lower the gun," he said firmly, and his hand was suddenly there, calm and steady, pressing against the rifle, gently urging it downward.
Raito's jaw slackened as he let the gun be lowered, numbly.
"What?" he asked, with disbelief lacing his voice.
L didn't respond. He didn't even look at Raito. His stayed on the woman, his gaze unwavering. No calculation, no guarded analysis—just quiet, reverential fixation.
Logic now slammed back with force. Alarm bells rang in Raito's brain. L looked...hypnotized. Immobilized.
Raito's pulse beat unevenly. "Oi!" he hissed, leaning in. "Don't tell me you're buying this."
L didn't even glance at him, focused completely on her..
"Please..." she whispered.
Raito glanced back at her, now with annoyance. That soft, tremulous voice—how many times had she whimpered like that? Wasn't it getting a bit old?
But L was still staring at her.
"Are you all right, Miss?" he asked, voice unusually soft. He took a step closer.
Raito tensed. 'Miss?!' His thoughts spat the word back with disbelief, then again with something darker, burning under his ribs like acid. Are you kidding me!?
"Are you hurt?" L continued, eyes roving up and down her body under the pretext of concern…but Raito knew better. He'd been doing the same thing himself seconds ago.
"I-I don't know what's happening..." she quivered, now focusing on L. She sniffled, batting those ridiculously long eyelashes, clutching her arms again in that oh-so-artless way that just so happened to press her bust forward, just enough to be noticed.
And L noticed.
His eyes flickered down—brief, subtle—before returning to her face.
Something inside Raito snapped.
Fury flared in his heart, and he had no idea where it was aimed — at her for her basic theatrics, or at L for being a basic idiot.
He completely forgot that he'd been snared himself moments ago. That didn't matter. What mattered was that L—the Great Detective—was falling for it. Raito had thought L was above this kind of cheap manipulation. L wasn't taken in by pretty faces. L didn't notice cup sizes. L doesn't—
This was unacceptable.
"I woke up here, and everything was dark. I tried to find a way out, but I—" she faltered, looking at L, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek.
Raito clenched his jaw. Those tears again..
"What's the last thing you remember?" L asked, voice calm, soothing.
"I don't—I don't know. I just woke up and—" Her voice trembled, helplessly human. But something in the way she spoke was off. Too fragile. Too deliberate.
She shifted slightly toward L.
"Stay back!" Raito snapped, rifle cocked straight at her.
She froze, shuddering, wide blue eyes slipping toward him. "Please... don't hurt me..."
Raito's grip was steadier now. If L was going to be an idiot, fine. But Raito wasn't letting this thing—whatever she was—get any closer. He didn't know what made the tears flow, but didn't trust her. He wasn't believing her cockamamie story for a second.
"Don't mind him," L said lightly, stepping into Raito's line of fire, cutting off his shot.
Raito's eyes widened, starting to see red.
"He's a bit tense," L continued, as though Raito were nothing more than a restless animal barking at shadows. "It's been a rough day."
Raito spoke through gritted teeth.
"L—Back off."
But L didn't back off. He took another step forward.
"Calm down, Raito-kun," he dismissed, tone almost teasing, eyes never leaving the woman. "Jealousy doesn't suit you."
Jealousy?!
Raito's eyes went wide. He barely registered his own sharp breathing, his chest rising and falling with a fury that was becoming uncontainable. His fingers twitched on the trigger, itching to shoot them both now. His glare seared into the back of L's head as he adjusted his angle, refusing to let his vision be obstructed.
He scrutinized this 'woman' again, top to bottom, now with a completely different focus. If he'd had any doubts before, they were gone now.
The intense sobs? Gone. Now her glistening eyes were locked on L in worshipful admiration—like Raito had ceased to exist. A damsel's gaze. The kind actresses used in films, as though L were some tragic hero, noble and strong, someone who might save her.
And L—the idiot!—was lapping it up.
Raito clenched his teeth, furious at the performance and at L for buying it so easily.
Idiot, he thought again. L had no idea what he was doing. No idea. Raito knew all about deceit—especially this kind. He'd conducted it himself dozens of times. And this? This was textbook.
"Oh no," she murmured, voice laced with trembling empathy. "I'm so sorry…"
Raito's breath halted for a fraction of a second. Something about those words—already, something was off.
L didn't react, or at least, Raito couldn't see his face. She took a step forward, and it took all of Raito's self-control not to yell at her again. But he waited, biding his time.
His sharp eyes tracked her as she shifted, delicate hands unwrapping from around her body. One palm lifted to sweep away a strand of hair, her lashes lowering in a calculated flutter.
"…Are you tense as well?" she asked L, voice lowering, tone changing noticeably.
Raito froze. Stopped breathing.
That was a weird thing to say. Right?
Yes. Yes, it was. A legitimately weird thing to say.
And lo and behold… the tears had magically evaporated too. Now there were only lowered eyelids and suggestive gazes. Raito's nostrils flared, waiting for the clincher. He knew it was coming… any second now…
"Maybe I can help you relax? I'm good with my hands…."
"I'm good with my hands!?" Raito almost goggled. Even he hadn't expected this level of artlessness. It was so transparent, so obviously a cheap seduction tactic, that it should have been insulting. Had to be insulting. And L—L of all people—would never fall for something that stupid.
Right?
Raito's burning glare snapped to L, whose face he still couldn't see. His breath was tight, his body wired with frustration, waiting for the inevitable deadpan rejection.
But L didn't move away.
In fact, he let her step closer, her fingers hovering dangerously near his chest.
And to Raito's absolute horror, L—the L, the man with the emotional range of a rock—leaned down toward her. His own pale hand came up, one delicate finger under her chin, tilting it up.
And then, worse: He spoke. In a voice that was… husky.
"I'm glad to hear that…"
For a second, Raito's brain shut down. He couldn't process it. Couldn't reconcile what he was seeing with reality. Because that—that movement—it looked almost like… Like L was…
His heartbeat roared in his ears, anger crashing through him like a violent wave. He couldn't even decide who he was more furious with. The woman, for this obvious, clumsy manipulation? Or L, for being a goddamn idiot and letting her get this close in the first place?
All it takes is a pretty face!?
The rifle twitched in his grip. If she so much as brushed against L, he'd put a bullet through her head.
But then L spoke again—
"Because you see…"
As his eyes stayed fixed on hers and his hand pulled her chin closer, Ratio saw his other hand slide into his side pocket, long fingers brushing something there— and for the first time in this ordeal, Raito took pause.
What is he doing?
The woman didn't notice. She was smiling up at him, eyes bright, lips parting in anticipation as he spoke—
"I'm good with my hands too."
It happened in seconds.
Before Raito could blink, L's grip shifted—his hand, once under her chin, locked around her throat in a vice. The other flashed from his pocket, something gleaming between his fingers—a flicker of metal—before she shrieked, writhing in his grasp.
L moved fast, stepping into her, and Raito instinctively sidestepped for a better view.
What he saw stopped him cold.
L was binding her—ruthlessly, with mechanical precision. Gone were the husky tones, the dazed looks from moments ago— wiped from existence.
A thin, glinting wire uncoiled like a living thing, slithering between his fingers, tightening—merciless—around her wrists. It looped higher, compressing her arms to her chest in a cruel embrace. Her knees buckled as the wire snapped her legs together, and then—final, lethal—L drew it around her throat, twisting it into a garrote collar. A sharp tug, and she collapsed to her knees in front of him.
She stilled. Panting.
Then—
She looked up through her bangs, hatefully.
Her teeth retracted, revealing rows of serrated metal. Her fingers convulsed in their bind, nails peeling back as something sharper slid forward—razor-edged claws emerging from beneath delicate skin.
And her eyes—
Raito saw it. The flicker, the faint mechanical hum beneath those luminous irises. A second, inner lid—metallic, artificial—swept across her corneas in a smooth, inhuman blink, lubricating the surfaces.
A cold shudder ran through him. The tears. Now, everything made sense.
"Let me go!" she rasped, her voice jagged, distorted—her beauty warping as rage twisted her into something monstrous. But no matter how she struggled, the wire binding her was steel.
L stared down, blank as a corpse. Unmoved.
"No," he said simply. Drawn-out. Relishing it.
Raito felt a sick thrill of satisfaction.
The woman's mask was gone. Her lips curled back over those wicked teeth, her synthetic eyes brimming with raw, mechanical hatred.
"It doesn't matter!" she spat, vicious.
L tilted his head. "Is that right?"
Her glare flicked to Raito, mocking.
"No matter what you do," she sneered, "no matter what you say—I have fulfilled my prime directive. I wasted your time."
A sick dread curled in Raito's stomach.
L showed no alarm. He only reacted when she leveled her gaze at him again, smirking—
"Have you fulfilled yours?"
That was the last thing she ever said.
With a single, fluid motion, L pulled the wire.
The sharp snick of metal. The clean, effortless slice.
Her head toppled, hitting the floor with a grotesque, mechanical clunk. It rolled once, twice—before coming to a stop at Raito's feet.
Inside her severed throat, where blood should have been—wires. Circuits.
Raito stared.
He'd known. He'd known she wasn't human. But seeing it—seeing the cold machinery buried beneath that perfect, flawless skin—was still…
Wrong.
L exhaled softly. Then, with a snap, the wire recoiled, vanishing back into his sleeve like a magician's trick.
He stepped over the broken body without a second glance.
"Come on," he said over his shoulder, already walking away.
Raito stood there for a moment, staring at L's retreating back, trying to name the emotion twisting in his gut.
Satisfaction? Fury? Horror?
All of the above?
Some minutes later, even though they'd moved on, the whirlpool in his head was still the same.
They were still walking down the same dark corridor, the passing time doing nothing to lift his unease. He kept ambling after L, his steps slightly unsteady, his mind still reeling from what had just transpired.
He was trying to process it all—what she was, what she had been trying to do, and, more pressingly—why was L's behavior the thing that disturbed him the most.
And it continued even now, L walking ahead of him with silent indifference, as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn't just…
"What thehell was that?" Raito finally asked, his voice still carrying an edge of tension.
"Spy model. Prototype52NX; Codename: Siren. " L answered without a shred of emotion, looking forward, his pace unfettered. "The result of Schaunhauer's integration efforts, I believe.
Raito blinked. He wasn't sure if that had been the question he'd been asking. Well, at least it explains some things… "Huh. You could have said something." he muttered, not surprised at L's lack of further comment.
Raito's grip on the rifle tightened, fingers pressing into the metal. He glanced at L's back, still feeling the lingering heat of something he didn't quite understand.
"For a moment there, I thought you were falling for it." He spoke again, not really knowing why, forcing himself to sound casual.
"Same for you," L countered with casualness of his own; only his sounded completely natural.
Raito looked away, unwilling to admit that for a few moments, he had fallen for it. He shifted his grip, adjusting for no real reason, eyes skimming the darkness on either side of them. "Nah," he said finally, downplaying the odd churn of emotions in his gut. "Not my cup of tea."
That earned him a glance—he could feel it, L's gaze scrutinizing him—before the detective turned away again.
"Of course," he said, voice still flat but somehow loaded. "Raito-kun prefers the blondes."
Raito's smirk faded. He kept his gaze averted, saying nothing. They both knew that whatever he'd had with Misa had been nothing but a convenience—manipulation wrapped in the illusion of affection. He wasn't about to dignify the comment with a response.
Instead, he pivoted the conversation, latching onto something easier - and more nagging.
"And how did you know she was fake?"
L didn't hesitate. "It was described in detail in the R&D department logs. I decrypted them while you were activating the nodes. Top secret project — signifies that we've passed into the deep Restricted sector."
Raito shook his head slightly. Of course. That made sense. L had been processing, analyzing, calculating three steps ahead.
…And yet, for some reason… that answer was not satisfying enough.
So if he hadn't known about her… would he have fallen for it?
He thought back to the way L had stared at her… the way his eyes had lingered on that body… the way his voice had dropped an octave, going all husky. Something twisted in Raito's chest. He didn't know what disturbed him more—the idea that L could be affected, or the idea that he couldn't.
"Besides," L added suddenly, as if the thought had only just occurred to him, "it was obvious, Raito-kun."
Raito glanced over, pulse ticking up slightly. "Oh yeah?" he prompted. "How so?"
He didn't know why he was pushing; what answer he expected. That L hadn't thought she was desirable? That L never thought anyone was desirable? That L was not actually capable of…?
And if he was capable of it…and had chosen this 'woman' as an object of his desire… why did that thought sit so poorly in Raito's gut?
L didn't look at him. His expression remained neutral, his pace unchanged. And when he spoke, his voice was casual. Detached.
"Simple. No real woman that beautiful would ever be nice to me."
Raito paused mid-step.
Silence stretched.
He stared at L's back as the other man walked ahead, completely unruffled, as though what he'd just said…meant nothing. As though it were a statement of fact, something obvious; unremarkable.
Does he…really believe that?
L paused slightly, glancing over his shoulder to look at him, as though asking why he wasn't moving. Raito clenched his jaw and quickly caught up, shoving the thought away.
This was random.
He didn't care.
He didn't.
They walked in wary silence, their footsteps swallowed by the metallic stillness. The walls shifting to smooth, sterile panels, reflecting the dim emergency lights that flickered, stretching their shadows unnaturally long.
"Deep restricted sector", L had said. That did not bode well.
Raito's fingers twitched over his rifle. The worst wasn't over, he was sure. That woman—whatever she was—had been a warning. Angel was evolving her tactics.
L moved ahead, carbine in hand, not quite ready. Raito's gaze flicked to him, distracted.
No real woman that beautiful would ever be nice to me.
What had L even meant? That he wanted someone like her to be interested?
The memory of the mirrored corridor surfaced. His own dream of being worshipped as Kira had been laid bare. But L's? Crowds of adoring fans, women throwing themselves at him. It had seemed absurd then. Now it was a splinter in Raito's mind.
Did L want that? The admiration, the touch of soft hands, the intimacy women so easily promised?
Laughable. Raito had been surrounded by beautiful women in life; he'd had his pick of them. Their charm never lasted. The conversations quickly became tedious, the allure only skin-deep. Surely L, with his sharp intellect, would feel the same.
…Right?
And yet, doubt lingered. Beauty had power. Most men craved it.
Did L carve it?
Raito's pulse quickened. L was detached from desire—but was it because he didn't want it, or because he'd convinced himself he couldn't have it?
He's not unattractive. The thought crept in unbidden. His posture, once hunched, now held quiet confidence. Raito had seen him with his clothes off — it wasn't bad. Even his gaze could be magnetic, pulling you in, creating a daze; like a vortex.
Raito swallowed hard. Stop it.
"Anything else I should know about?" he asked, forcing nonchalance, grasping for distractions. "Any surprises?"
L's voice cut through the quiet. "Android development of that sort was highly confidential. If we're in the Restricted research levels…"
He glanced back, eyes locking onto Raito's. A jolt of something shot through his body at the black gaze.
Vortex.
"Expect more irregularities."
The silence grew heavier. Raito's jaw tightened. The thought of more things like that woman—possibly worse—made his skin crawl.
…And still, irrationally, his thoughts wouldn't let go. Over and over the kept looping, rounding back to the same stupid question.
"And what do you think of them, anyway?" he finally blurted out, before he could stop himself.
L turned, brow furrowing. "Irregularities?"
"…Women." Raito wished he could swallow the words back. "Beautiful ones."
L tilted his head, perplexed. "Robot women?"
"Just women." Raito's throat was dry. "In general."
L blinked, slightly bemused. "They're lovely, of course," he said, voice totally neutral. "But hardly relevant."
Lovely.
Hardly relevant.
Right.
Raito nodded in fake nonchalance again. Of course — what else had he expected L to say? It was the socially expected, average, 'normal' answer…But still the words somehow settled uneasily, , heavy and unsatisfying. As though again… his true question had been left unanswered.
He opened his mouth as though to say something again, but at that exact moment L's arm shot out, blocking his chest.
Raito stopped dead. His first instinct was irritation. "What—"
L's other hand lifted a single finger, a command for silence. His black eyes were locked on the ground ahead, narrowed in concentration.
His wide eyes locked on the ground ahead.
Raito followed his gaze.
A smear of glossy-black spread across the steel flooring, shifting like oil mixed with shattered glass. It twitched, convulsing, rearranging itself.
Raito brought up his rifle. L caught his arm. A silent don't.
L raised his forearm, fingers flying over his touchpad. Raito kept his rifle aimed, transfixed as the slick mass split, unfolding into six metallic legs. Another shape detached. Then a third.
They pulsed, shifting. Molecular disassemblers.
One pounced.
Raito fired.
The plasma bolt smashed into it, bursting in a white-hot spray—but the liquid reformed, slithering toward scattered debris. It latched onto a piece of metal, absorbing it, and within seconds, another unit took shape.
"What the hell…"
L ignored him, fingers blurring over the touchpad, sweat rolling down his temple. "Cover me."
Raito pivoted, unloading half his charge into the nearest ones. They shattered, then reassembled.
"They're multiplying."
"Working on it."
L sprinted for the closest lab door. Locked.
Raito fired another volley, rifle flashing red—low charge.
L bypassed security with a flood of code. The door slid open.
"Inside—now."
Raito dove in, a metallic claw scraping his boot. L threw himself toward a terminal. Raito slammed the door shut.
Outside, the creatures gathered, skittering, sensing their trapped prey. Raito checked his rifle. Six shots left. No more.
He turned to L, hacking furiously, hands shaking.
"What are you doing?"
No response.
A noise—Raito whirled.
One of them forced its way through the gap, its gleaming shell reflecting his own tense expression back at him.
He shot it point-blank.
Molten slag burst from its insides, splattering the walls. But the droplets kept moving, sliding toward the metallic legs of a chair. Raito clenched his jaw. He knew what was coming—
Just then, L slammed his palm against the terminal.
A high-pitched screech exploded through the room. Raito clapped his hands over his ears, catching a glimpse of L doing the same before he turned toward the door.
The creatures convulsed, cores flickering—then, finally, collapsed into static, immobile sludge.
The screeching stopped. Raito exhaled, head still pounding with the ringing.
L staggered back from the screen, breathing hard. His fingers twitched. He took two steps—then dropped into the chair behind him.
Silence.
Raito lowered his guns. "What… was that?"
L panted for a moment before answering, exhaustion bleeding into his voice. "Prototype #37-A, Codename: Ferravore. Designed for waste disposal, resource harvesting. It ingests metal alloys and converts them to energy."
Raito's stomach twisted. L was sitting down.
"That's not a robot," he muttered, watching L close his eyes and press a palm to the side of his face, pushing it back—like he was physically holding himself upright. Raito had never seen him do that before.
"It is. An experimental one." L exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Raito looked away, uneasy. It felt wrong to witness this—like he was seeing something L wouldn't normally allow.
"Plasma fire doesn't work," L continued, voice flat with exhaustion. "It requires a specific sound frequency to destabilize core systems."
Raito clenched his jaw. His eyes flicked to the liquid mush on the floor, then the dark corridor beyond. He could say any number of things—how horrible this was. How screwed they were.
Instead, he inhaled sharply, forcing himself steady.
"I wasted half my rifle charge," he said, keeping his voice calm. "I doubt we'll find another charging station before the cargo level."
L didn't respond. He just stood, slow and deliberate, nodding. His fingers trembled—barely, but Raito caught it.
L turned toward the doorway, where broken creature remains twitched feebly, unable to reform.
"Let's keep moving. We'll find something." His voice was steady.
Raito opened his mouth—Do you need a break? Should we wait?
But nothing came out.
He knew L needed a break.
He knew they couldn't wait.
Not even a bit.
Time passed, but they remained stuck in the Restricted Sector, one surprise after another—at least for Raito, who lacked a full briefing. L's knack for intel-gathering was proving invaluable as they encountered increasingly bizarre threats, most of which required his intervention.
Now, standing in the darkness of the corridor, they watched the ceiling where sleek, motion-sensitive turrets lay in wait. L had already noticed them.
"Predictive models," he murmured. "They anticipate movement."
Nothing as deadly as that metal-dissolving flubber, but enough to demand the last reserves of L's mental energy. Using the touchpad strapped to his arm, he launched a silent override. The turrets hesitated, then dimmed—looping false data.
They moved forward, undetected. Raito eyed the tremor in L's fingers. That's it. Up ahead, a flickering lab door pulsed with intermittent light. Let's clear that and rest. Three minutes. Two. Then L staggered. Raito jerked forward, but L steadied himself and kept walking. He's going to crash.
At the lab window, Raito scanned inside, praying for no threats. Instead, his attention snagged on something invaluable: the sleek barrel of an EMP gun, embedded in the thigh of a half-assembled android. His breath caught.
L noticed. His dull, tired gaze met Raito's. "Hurry."
Raito swore he'd force them to rest after this. He slipped inside, scanning for traps. It could be bait—Angel was sadistic—but the risk was worth it. Their survival might depend on this weapon.
The flickering light revealed humanoid machines in various states of assembly—lifelike limbs, exposed circuitry, synthetic flesh eerily realistic — like the one that had been on that 'woman'. Raito swallowed, ignoring the implications, and approached the table where the gun rested, embedded in the android. Relief twisted into unease. The EMP wasn't attached—it was integrated. Extracting it wouldn't be simple. He hesitated, then reached out.
A voice spoke. Low. Human.
"Ah, interested in acquisitions, are we?"
Raito froze, gaze snapping to the android's face—lifelike, expressive, unsettlingly real. Mouth, nose, eyes that tracked him. Its arms were missing, wires dangling from its shoulders. One remaining thigh housed the EMP.
"An interesting choice," it mused. "Tell me—what is it that you do?"
Ignoring the chill down his spine, Raito pried at the gun. It was wired in. His hands moved quickly, but the thing kept talking.
"Business is about contacts, don't you think?"
L's voice cut through the doorway. "If you can't extract it, forget it."
Raito heard L's fingers tapping at the touchpad. Hacking again.
"I have a better idea," Raito muttered. He couldn't take the gun, but he could take its power core. His own EMP was useless without one. Twisting the lock, he yanked the power cell free and installed it in his weapon. It hummed softly, alive again.
"Why don't we scan contact chips? It's good to stay in touch," the android suggested.
Raito gave it a baffled look, then shook his head. Better leave before some giant claw bursts out of its stomach. He strode out without a glance back.
In the corridor, the EMP's blue glow illuminated their faces. Raito tested its weight, exhaling, almost pleased.
"This will be useful," he said. "If you're right about the drones—"
"You might not have to wait that long."
L's black eyes locked ahead. Raito turned. The walls shuddered with metallic pounding. A distant screech of vents splitting open.
Then they came.
Spindly war drones spilled into the corridor, insectile limbs clattering, reflective black bodies pulsing with red light. Their scanners locked on.
Plasma fire rained down.
L moved. "Go!"
They sprinted. Raito held fire, conserving the EMP. L shot one drone mid-stride; it exploded in blue light, but more swarmed in. Their best bet was escape. Raito grabbed the carbine from L, swiveling to cover him as he ducked into a side panel, hacking furiously.
"Ten seconds," L called.
More drones rained from the ceiling. Raito fired up, forcing them back. The carbine whined, almost dry. He aimed carefully.
"L."
"Three seconds."
A mechanical hiss.
Raito twisted, fired—grazed a drone's leg before it sprang. He braced for impact, but the door slid open just in time. L yanked him inside. The doors sealed behind them, cutting off the swarm.
They kept running. Metal banged behind them, drone fire hammering the doors.
"Vents?" Raito asked, breathless.
"Swarming." L's fingers flew over his touchpad even as they ran.
Raito cursed—Angel had bypassed L's ice protocols. He probably hadn't had time to refresh the countermeasures between all the other hacking.
L suddenly stopped, whirling as he pressed something on his pad. A steel door slammed shut behind them. Then he took off again. Raito followed.
It went like that—running, doors sealing behind them. Trying to buy time. But the vents were everywhere. The machines would circulate through the system. It was a matter of time.
"How far to the stairwell?" Raito panted as another door locked.
"Two more stretches," L said, body trembling. He braced himself against the wall, grip tight on his touchpad.
Raito's stomach twisted. They needed to stop. L was going to collapse. But they couldn't stop.
And if L failed… what then?
The image of that pit slammed into his mind—half-human monstrosities, writhing in Schaunhauer's office.
Is that where we'll spend eternity?
He looked at L—those dark eyes barely visible in the red emergency glow. For a second, a nightmare overtook him. Those same eyes, wide and filled with horror. Lying next to him in that ditch.
No.
"Come on," he growled. Before he knew it, he had grabbed L's arm, dragging him forward. L staggered, almost colliding into him, but found his balance. Raito held his breath, beating back the rising panic. If he had to carry him, he would. He'd put on Sentinel again. He didn't care.
We have to get out of here.
L lifted his head, ready to move—
—then froze, staring past Raito.
Raito spun immediately, rifle raised.
At first, he saw nothing but the dim red emergency lights, pulsing like a dying heartbeat. Then—vapor. Sliding from the side doors. Panic shot through him—poison gas?!—but then came the scent: heavy, floral, suffocating.
And then—
Shadows.
Female.
Gliding from the doors. Moving toward them.
They entered in near-perfect sync, a choreographed display of allure and artifice. Even in silhouette, he saw their impossible beauty—long legs, silken hair, bodies sculpted to seduce. No pretense of innocence this time. Their clothing clung, deliberately designed to entice, like something from a fever dream.
Raito stood still, his brain scrambling to reconcile this absurdity with their current reality. Then, shaking his head, he lowered his rifle.
"This shit again..." he muttered, eyeing the parade of corsets and lace. "Gimme a break."
L stepped beside him. Raito glanced over. This time, no feigned attraction—just cold observation. That poker face was intact, impassive. For some reason, the total lack of interest gave Ratio a rather twisted sense of satisfaction.
"Care to do the honors?" he said, chin jutting toward L's pocket. "Put your Shibari to the test?"
L didn't react. His gaze remained fixed, but not in mesmerized awe—focused, analytical.
"Be careful. They are flexible. Agile."
Raito smirked, watching the women's calculated saunter. "Oh, I'll bet they are," he muttered, reaching for the EMP. "Shame, really. I was just starting to appreciate the view."
He lifted the EMP, powering up the core, aiming at the center of the group. Ready to take them down—swaying hips and all. But before he could pull the trigger, they stopped.
Stillness.
They just stood there, darkened features locked onto him with an eerie quiet.
Raito's breath hitched. Something about the way they tilted their heads... They looked almost—
Afraid.
Human.
His grip tightened on the EMP. They're machines, he reminded himself. Just machines. And yet.
And yet—
Unarmed women.
L's voice cut through, calm and steady.
"Do it."
Raito hesitated. The closest one—her face was visible now. Large brown eyes, wide, pleading. The ghost of Nora flickered in his mind. That look...again….
"Raito." L again, sharper.
Raito flinched. He knew. He was going to do it. Finger tightening—
Then—a metallic clack. A flicker in his periphery—
Their bodies contorted.
Bending backward, spines snapping at unnatural angles. Limbs splaying like spiders. Metal rods sliding from their arms—
"RAITO!"
He squeezed his eyes shut and yanked the trigger. The EMP pulse rocked through him.
Heavy bodies dropped. Limbs severed. Artificial flesh and metal twisted into heaps. The floor littered with lifeless marionettes.
He swallowed hard, staring at the carnage, the lump in his throat growing.
L moved first, stepping carefully through the wreckage, his wobbling steps precise. A severed limb twitched; clawed fingers reached feebly for his leg. He kicked it away without pause.
Raito remained frozen, gun still hot in his grip, watching L move—calculating, detached. And for some reason, the dispassion that had satisfied him moments ago now made his stomach turn.
L stopped over one, staring blankly down at her half-burned face. The delicate line of a collarbone. The curve of one perfect, artificial breast.
"Don't worry, Raito-kun," L said flatly, turning to meet his gaze. His voice steady. But those eyes...
"They're just machines."
Raito's grip tightened. The words struck differently this time—colder, more knowing. L was right, of course. They were machines. Dangerous machines.
He had seen it. He knew.
So then why—
L nudged the perfect cheekbone with his boot. A twitch. Then nothing. Dismissing it like a forensic investigator, he moved on.
Raito's lips pressed together.
Why does this feel so awful?
He kept moving.
The stairwell was close now. Beyond it, the machine army waited. Even the environment seemed to acknowledge this, settling into an eerie silence. The calm before the storm.
A hundred feet ahead, a large metallic door loomed: Distribution Center / Freight Management. Emergency lights bathed the corridor in flickering red. A nearby screen crackled to life, and for a tense second, Raito expected Angel's taunting face—but it was only static. He exhaled sharply as it dimmed again.
L walked steadily ahead. At least he wasn't hacking anymore. Raito took some solace in that. But the memory of what he'd done to secure L's rest—walking past the shattered bodies of those android women, their faces frozen in human fear—curdled in his gut. He shoved it away.
L hadn't hesitated. Hadn't even blinked. Cold efficiency.
Raito told himself L had been right. That this wasn't the time for sentiment. But something about it unsettled him. How emotionless L could be, how untouchable. Does he really feel nothing for other people — ever?, he wondered. What if those women had been real and we'd been forced to kill them? He knew L didn't really care about morals — not really. He would never let anything stand in the way of a good puzzle. But still…still—
L stopped in front of the large doors, tilting his head. They had arrived. Through this door it would be mayhem.
He pulled a battery pack from his pocket and slid it into his carbine. Raito did the same, checking his charge. His rifle was nearly empty. Five EMP rounds left. Not enough.
"There must be hundreds of them by now," he muttered.
"Thousands." L didn't look up.
Raito clenched his jaw. No use sugarcoating it. "We're gonna die."
He wasn't being dramatic. Just stating a fact. They had to solve it—somehow.
L was silent, eyes dark with thought. Raito expected a half-baked hacking idea, but none kept thinking instead.
A second passed, then another, until finally, as though deciding on something, L looked up.
"You're right."
There was something about the way he said it. No inflection. No argument. Just a simple fact.
Then, with a slow deliberate movement, he reached to the chest pocket on his jacket. He pulled something small from the inner lining and held it out, letting a thin chain unfold to reveal a glinting, silver dog-tag object, dangling openly in the air between them.
Raito's breath hitched.
Sentinel.
His mind stalled, hypnotized by the gleam of the small device as it swung back and forth, like a pendulum in the dim lighting.
For a moment—only a moment—he almost felt excited. The thought of Sentinel's power surged through him, the potential, the edge it would give him. But that feeling faded as quickly as it had come, smothered by the stark finality of L's face —the way his eyes held a sort of grim capitulation, a resignation to the dire straits.
There was no enthusiasm, no triumph—just that same relentless logic that had guided every decision so far. Raito read the expression, clear as day:
We have no choice.
A flicker of unease twisted in Raito's stomach. L didn't want him to use it. He had to.
He nodded quietly to the unspoken question, reaching for it as L gave curt instructions, sounding as commanding and definitive as Raito had ever heard him.
"Maximum continuous use is ten minutes, with at least three minutes of break between uses," he explained, eyes narrowed as Raito tore Sentinel off its chain.
"Do not get injured while using it—otherwise, you know what happens. And I can't guarantee we'll find another Infirmary soon."
Raito nodded, fingers closing over the plaque—but before he could lift it to his throat, L's hand shot out and gripped his wrist.
"Raito-kun."
He froze. L's touch was firm, his palm warm against Raito's pulse. When Raito looked up, L's eyes had shifted—not softer, but heavier. Weighted.
"Remember:" L said quietly. "Once you're wearing it, you will feel invincible. Future pain won't scare you. You must remember—Injuries are not an option."
There was no emotion in his voice. No concern. Just a command.
Still, Raito felt it. The weight of L's eyes, of the way his fingers curled against his wrist, of the unspoken gravity beneath his words. And for some reason, it made something ache inside him. A slow, dull pressure building in his chest.
For a moment, he just looked at L. And L looked back at him, his expression dark and solemn. Mournful, almost. Hazily, Raito's previous thoughts surfaced— about how L was emotionless, about how he couldn't feel anything even when faced with 'defenseless women.'
…this doesn't look so emotionless.
The ache deepened. Raito hated it…and yet, somehow…liked it at the same time. He didn't understand it — not at all.
Finally he gave a short nod, and L released his hand— eyes going blank and neutral again, as though nothing had happened.
Raito swallowed a weird lump that had formed in his throat and brought Sentinel to his neck, eyes still boring into L's. This time, for some reason, he wasn't so excited about losing all his feelings — maybe it was the knowledge of the painful side-effects,...but maybe it was something else too.
"See you in ten." he said, trying for a reassuring grin but ending up with something closer to a wince. L's nod was imperceptible; inscrutable.
Raito pressed the metal onto his skin.
A soft click. A sharp pain at the base of his skull. He looked up as he waited for it to ebb, staring at L's face in front of him, watching it transform right in front of his eyes – losing its glow somehow, losing that… intense feeling that accompanied the sight of it — whatever that feeling was. Losing it, losing it more and more—
—until finally, it flattened out completely, becoming just a random androgynous face, the image of a familiar person; the acting Tactical Commander— nothing more and nothing less.
Raito brought up the rifle, holding it barrel-up to his side.
"What's the plan?" he asked, his voice dead flat.
L's jaw clenched, looking away as he started speaking.
"Eight o'clock."
Gunfire erupted as Raito spun on his heel, Sentinel coursing through his veins, sharpening every movement into perfect calculation. The first wave of combat droids had emerged the moment they'd opened the doors to the stairwell, their sleek metal bodies glinting in the dim light. He had already slipped beneath and between them before they could fully register his presence.
"Four o'clock."
A headshot. A chest cavity ruptured. A limb severed.
Now he was in the wide tunnel of the cargo transfer floor, luring them along — as was the plan.
Each shot found its mark with effortless efficiency. The machines fell in rapid succession, but no sooner did they drop than more flooded in behind them, their jointed legs skittering against the grated floors. Raito darted ahead, faster than he should have been, narrowly dodging a barrage of return fire.
At the end of the corridor, at the terminal closest to the Incineration chamber , L worked furiously, fingers flying over his portable interface that was now connected to one of the Shipment terminals. His voice crackled through their comm link. "Sealing exit routes. Moving haulers into position." a quick pause, then two loaded, simple words "Four minutes."
"Roger," Raito muttered, twisting mid-air to avoid a razor-edged drone that lunged at him. He knew what L was saying — he had six minutes left before Sentinel started to become a liability. Before then, he needed to finish them — or this batch of them, at least.
He landed in a crouch, gun raised, and sent an explosive round straight into the drone's core. The detonation sent a shockwave through the passage, metal shards embedding into the walls.
More hostiles poured in from the side corridors, these ones humanoid, like metallic soldiers with eyes glowing red in the dark. L's voice returned, calm and clipped. "Two en route. Find cover."
Raito sprinted forward just as the ground trembled and two enormous automated haulers — that L had hijacked and turned into his pet rhinos — rumbled down from the upper levels, their massive frames grinding against the floor. They kept going, undeterred, until they barreled into the combat droids, crushing them beneath tons of reinforced steel. Sparks flew as metal was sheared apart.
"Five minutes."
The moment's reprieve allowed Raito to reload, Sentinel still thrumming through him. He turned to see L standing amidst the chaos, unnervingly composed as he directed the carnage with nothing more than rapid commands into his interface.
Raito reached up, ready to deactivate Sentinel for a respite now that the enemies had lessened —but he didn't get a chance.
A deep, mechanized rumble signaled the entrance of the war machines. He turned to see quadrupedal tanks, larger than anything they had faced so far, stomping into view. Their armor was impervious to small-arms fire, their cannons rotating with lethal precision. If Sentinel hadn't been there, he would have gasped.
But as it were, his reflexes were as fast as lighting: he shot the last round of the EMP straight into the first one, waiting to see if it would work —- but no; even the EMP was not enough to stop it. This was no regular drone or non-combative robot — Its specialized defense shield was designed especially for hits like this, and it would not go down easily.
"L," Raito called.
"Working on it," L replied, voice tight, as Raito brought out the next best thing he had — three grenades.
A cannon fired.
Raito moved before the blast could land, the world narrowing to a single moment. His foot hit the wall, and he propelled himself off it, twisting mid-air as the explosion erupted where he had just been standing. The shockwave rattled the corridor, debris scattering in all directions.
"One en route. Thirty seconds to impact," L reported.
Raito exhaled. Too long.
He pushed himself harder, charging straight into the line of fire. The war machines adjusted, targeting systems recalibrating—but they were too slow. Raito was already beneath them, sliding between armored legs. He planted a mini-grenade against one of the hydraulic joints and dove clear. The detonation tore through the limb, sending the war machine crashing to the floor. Another grenade thrown straight down its cannon and it burst into smithereens.
The second giant turned on him, barrel priming to fire. Raito swore under his breath—
"Fifteen seconds."
—and dashed away as fast as he could, jumping over debris and falling behind a wrecked machine just as another of L's cargo hauler slammed through the wall and into the tank from the side, crumpling the war machine's armor like paper. L had timed it perfectly.
"Move out," L ordered. "Now."
Raito didn't argue. He sprinted back over the ruins, joined by L as he passed the terminal, both running straight to the Incinerator at the end of the corridor. Raito could see it in the distance, the huge ironclad gates from before — the ones that they had speculated would need to be opened from another floor. Now as they approached, Raito could see them groaning open under L's successful hacking.
"Ten minutes." Lstated suddenly, and Raito didn't question it. Now that he'd agreed to the logic of it, he was prepared to turn it off as mechanically as he did everything else — despite the discomfort that would involve.
Upon deactivating it, exhaustion immediately hit him — as well as panic, fear, and a dull ache in his left leg. He stopped momentarily, panting, L halting next to him.
"Nearly there." he said simply, a shadow of reassurance in his flat voice, and Raito nodded, wordlessly picking up his stride again, limping a bit but gritting his teeth.
It was tough — but it was bearable.
And anyway, better than the alternative.
Muscles screamed but there was no time to rest. They reached the doors of the Incineration Chamber, which yawned before them like a beast, dark and cavernous — the only promise being total annihilation.
L was already moving. Without a word, he sprinted ahead, disappearing up the grated staircase to the overseeing control platform. Raito followed at a slower pace intending to stay downstairs as a lure until enough of them had entered.
A distant hum filled the air, growing louder. The machines were coming.
"Three minutes"
He pressed Sentinel to his throat.
Everything sharpened.
The first wave surged into the corridor—spindly ambulatory droids skittering across the floor, their mechanical limbs clicking with lethal precision. Above them, flying drones whirred like oversized insects, scanning, locking on. Raito took position in the middle of the hall and raised his weapon.
Then he ran.
The machines chased as expected, a relentless tide of metal and circuitry. Raito fired, bolts of energy striking true. One droid exploded in a spray of burning wires, another collapsed with a shattered optic. The drones closed in fast, weaving through the air in a chaotic dance of aggression. He twisted, loosed another shot, dodged a burst of plasma that seared past his cheek. Sentinel dulled the pain before he could register it.
He sprinted, weaving through the chaos, waiting until enough of them were in. More machines poured into the corridor. He shot, ducked, moved faster.
Above him, L worked in silence, fingers a blur over the control panel, cycling through access points. Raito saw the moment the gates' mechanism engaged—red lights flashing in warning as the Incineration Chamber sealed itself. The remaining machines surged forward, funneled into the trap just as the doors slammed shut behind them.
Raito didn't wait to admire their success. He turned, bolting up the grated staircase two steps at a time. Sentinel still hummed in his veins as he reached L's side. His breath came fast and heavy.
L didn't look at him. His focus remained on the control panel, hands moving in precise, rapid strokes.
Raito swallowed, pressing a hand to his throat.
Click.
Sentinel deactivated.
And with its absence, the exhaustion hit once more. His vision narrowed, body aching in protest, cheek now burning at the sting of injury. Below them, the walls of the incineration chamber trembled under the furious assault of the trapped machines. The drones, still active, battered against the reinforced windows, their hollow red optics glowing with artificial rage.
L worked faster.
Raito forced himself to stand still, jaw tight, watching the chamber—watching L.
And waiting.
And waiting.
The drones outside buzzed, their claws screeching against the reinforced windows. Lines of encrypted code flickered across the screen, and L's fingers flew over the keys, unwavering.
Raito stood behind him, tension coiled in his chest.
"You're almost there, right?" he snapped, eyes darting to the door as it groaned under the bots' assault. Claws scraped glass, shrieking.
"Almost..." L mumbled, hands moving faster, erratic. A tremor.
Raito narrowed his eyes. Strain. He knew L was pushing too hard. Hopefully this was the last time—
The windows fractured, the doors dented.
"Hurry," Raito said, uselessly.
L didn't answer. Fingers flew. Then—
A sharp inhale. A pause.
Raito's head snapped to L's back, brows furrowed. Something didn't look right.
L's hand hovered, slipped. His body wavered—
And collapsed.
"Oi!" Raito lunged as L crumpled like a severed marionette, hitting the floor hard. His chest heaved in ragged gasps, but his eyes were unfocused, unblinking.
The glass of the window cracked more; Raito could hear the sickening noise.
No, no, no, His mind spun in a panic, eyes flicking between L's rigid form and the claws coming through the cracks on the glass. Not now.
"Dammit, L." Raito shook him, rough, but no response. L's jaw slackened, a string of drool slipping from his lips. His whole body seized violently, as though going into crisis.
Raito grabbed his face, tilting it up. Bloodshot eyes, yellowed corneas, veins bursting like overripe fruit. His skin was ashen—sick. Even for exhaustion… this didn't look right.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
L's lips parted. Whispery half-words.
Raito leaned in. "What?"
A twitch—L lifted a trembling hand, pointing to his left ear.
Raito brushed back damp black strands—and froze.
His breath caught. His stomach plummeted.
Now it all made sense. The relentless hacking. The impossible speed.
Impossible.
"…You fucking idiot." The curse was strangled, more exasperation than fury.
His hands flew to Cerebral Ascend, trying to rip it off—fingers slipping against melded flesh. It had sunk into L's skin. This would take scalpels.
"I can't fucking believe it…" he was muttering, as L trembled on the floor, a wreck, his brain fried from cognitive overuse. Raito clenched his fists, then slammed the terminal him in fury, teeth gritted.
"You didn't need it, dammit!"
L shuddered. "…needed…faster…"
Raito ignored the sting behind his eyes.
"Shut up!" He stood abruptly. "Idiot."
L's chest was rising and falling on the floor, shallow but steady. He'd survive. Let him lie there now and suffer the consequences, Raito thought, somewhat vindictively. I have to deal with the Incinerator. His fury to curse out L pumped him with such adrenaline that it even dulled his fear.
Just then the metal door dented inward even more, a massive droid slamming against it. The windows already had multiple cracks — if they weren't reinforced they would have already shattered.
Raito turned to the screen. Lines of incomprehensible code scrolled by. He had minutes, maybe less.
"How the hell do I do this now?" he muttered, mostly to himself.
No answer. L was out.
And time was running out.
Raito scrambled, seconds stretching like hours. The EMP gun rested against the wall, useless against that many. His fingers twitched over the terminal, the code shifting in maddening complexity—L's domain, not his. The pounding of bots grew deafening. He wasn't L. He couldn't do this.
Then it hit him.
L had tried to override the directive preventing motion in the Incinerator. A safety measure, ensuring nothing alive could be incinerated by mistake.
But what if there was too much motion?
Raito's eyes flicked to the screen. He couldn't rewrite the directive—but he could overload it. Jam the chamber so full the sensors wouldn't register movement at all.
His gaze snapped to the droids slamming against the reinforced glass.
Do I have any other ideas?
He hurled himself at the terminal, fingers racing. Cold sweat slicked his neck. His eyes locked on the screen. He couldn't code—but he could open the chamber door. Let more in. Pack them tight.
Like a Tokyo metro at rush hour.
A smirk tugged his lips. How many droids can an Incinerator fit before it bursts?
The machines crammed in, limbs entangling, their movements slowing. An insistent beeping rang out.
"Incineration Protocol Activated. Stand by for detonation. Ten. Nine. Eight."
Oops. Looks like you're about to diiie.
Raito heard the singsong voice in his mind and grinned at his reflection in the glass—until he saw his own face, distorted in the press of metal bodies. He didn't recognize it. Or maybe he did; too well.
"Five. Four."
He exhaled, turning from the glass. L lay still, shallow breaths steady. Their eyes locked. Raito matched his breathing without realizing.
"Two. One."
A piercing beep.
"Incineration."
The explosion roared like a volcano erupting. Raito barely flinched as fire—no ordinary fire, something red, chemical, lethal—engulfed the machines. The reinforced glass shuddered, fractures spiderwebbing outward. A small, sharp crack.
In one motion, Raito dove over L as the window shattered. Air sucked violently from the room, stealing his breath. He gasped, watching L do the same, struggling for oxygen.
"Danger Alert. Breach detected. Incineration Sequence paused." The robotic voice cut through the chaos. Vents hissed, flooding the room with air. Automatic protocols, for once, worked in their favor.
Raito coughed, dragging himself up. Did it work? He peered into the chamber. Smoke churned where thousands of machines had been. Only scraps remained, a few charred fragments of metal.
Safe. For now.
His breath steadied. Silence swallowed the room, broken only by the hum of containment fields sealing the bots' final grave. But it wasn't over. The window was gone.
The plan had been to keep luring them in. Thousands more, wiped out in waves. Now? No chance.
His gaze dropped to L—still breathing, still alive. Relief flickered, buried beneath frustration. They'd come too close to disaster. Too damn close.
He moved to L's side, crouching, fingers hovering near his shoulder. A shake. L groaned, eyelids fluttering. His skin was sickly pale, breath shallow. Raito tilted his jaw, inspecting the implant near his ear.
Could he remove it now? Would L need anesthetics? Could he risk it?
A deep, echoing boom from the sealed Incinerator door answered him.
New hordes. More machines. Gathering outside, thick as locusts. The longer they stayed, the worse it would get.
No choice. They had to move. Now.
Raito hauled L up. Dead weight. He was barely conscious, muscles limp. Piggybacking him was a nightmare. Defending them at the same time? Impossible. He had nothing but a weak plasma pistol.
Where the hell is that Bozo when you need him?
The bitter thought brought no comfort. No allies. No help. Just himself.
He exhaled sharply and reached into his pocket, fingers curling around cool metal.
One last time.
He pressed Sentinel to his neck.
Don't fail me now.
Raito staggered into the escape pod room, the doors sliding shut behind him with a final hiss.
The scent of scorched metal and burned flesh clung to the air — his own burned flesh — though Sentinel dulled his perception of it. L tumbled from his back, rolling onto the floor like a discarded puppet, his limbs slack, his face an empty mask.
Raito exhaled sharply, pushing himself to his knees. He glanced over his shoulder. Smoke curled faintly from his scorched clothes and blood from the gashes on his body, but the pain had yet to register—Sentinel buffered him from it. He knew what that meant: agony would come later, full-force, and he had no means to stop it.
Ignoring the damage, he turned to L. The detective's breathing was shallow, his pulse erratic — and to top it off, he had not been spared a few odd injuries as well, although he was too unconscious to register.
Raito wasted no time, pushing to his feet and moving toward the emergency medical cabinet he had seen in this room before. His greasy gloved hands snapped it open, rifling through its contents. Supplies were meager: one anesthetic syringe, bandages, a defibrillator, some other useless devices. Nowhere near enough.
His mind raced. What could he do? He turned back to L, studying the ashen pallor of his skin.
His gaze flicked to the escape pods lining the far wall. A reckless idea formed. Where did they lead? He didn't know. Probably somewhere unpleasant, again. But with the machines pounding against the door….
Then the screen at the center of the room flickered to life.
A pixelated face materialized—androgynous, with hollow eyes, neon-lit circuits pulsing like veins beneath translucent skin. The mouth stretched into a smirk, amused and predatory.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" The voice slithered through the speakers, dripping with amusement. "Look at this. All that work, all that struggle… and still, you can't keep it together, can you, Light?"
Raito's jaw tightened. Even through Sentinel's emotional dampening, a sharp edge of cold fury cut through.
"Angel," he said flatly.
She chuckled, the sound twisting into static. "Oh, don't be so bitter. I warned you, didn't I? You and your dear little companion were never going to make it out of this clean. Look at him lying there. Doesn't look too good, does he? Seems you failed to protect him —- again."
Raito cut a glance at L's motionless form before fixing his eyes on the screen. "Where do the pods lead?"
Angel's smile widened, luminous and grotesque. "Your final resting place."
He looked away. He'd suspected as much; now he was sure. So much for their grand plan then; it had all been for naught after all. Fortunate that he was wearing Sentinel, otherwise he might have felt devastated.
"I won't take them, then."
She tilted her head, feigning curiosity. "Oh? And what will you do instead?"
Silence. He had no answer. L wouldn't wake in this state, not without removing Cerebral Ascend, and doing so manually was…ill-advised. And himself—if he deactivated Sentinel now, he'd collapse under the pain. He had no weapons. No backup plan. The machines outside would tear them apart the second the door gave way.
Angel saw the hesitation. The digitied face on the screen zoomed in, as though she were leaning in, her eyes glinting like razors. "You don't have to die here, you know."
Raito said nothing.
"I'll make you a deal," she purred. "I'll help you. I'll restore your strength. Heal you both, no pain, no consequences. I know the frequency of your nervous systems—I accessed it through Whisper. I can dull the pain centers in your brain, bring Lovely L back from his little nap."
Raito's fingers twitched. He turned his gaze to L, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest.
"All you have to do," Angel continued, "is take the pods."
Raito stayed silent, looking down at L skeptically, considering. "Why?" he asked, lifting his gaze back to the screen.
Angel smiled, a fractured thing. But she gave no answer.
He exhaled sharply. "Why would I trust you? All you've done is harm us. You seek to absorb us. Anything you do leads to more suffering." he stated, with finality "Trusting you would be insanity."
Angel's voice remained light, almost laughing. "That's true. You shouldn't trust me." She leaned closer, as if confiding something just for him. "But you don't have a choice."
Raito's fingers flexed, the emotions exploding inside him pushing Sentinel to its control limits
"And besides," Angel added, her neon grin widening, "for what it's worth—I intend to keep my word. You and your little boyfriend are no good to me like this. I want you healthy. Strong. Intelligent."
Raito remained still, calculating.
"So?" she prompted, her voice sweetly venomous, brimming with satisfaction. "What do you say?"
With a pneumatic hiss, the two pod caps unlocked, the hatches beneath them sliding away. Below, gaping chasms yawned open, revealing tubing that spiraled down, down, into the abyss, glowing faintly like the molten core of the earth.
Raito looked at L's still form on the floor again, his mind rapidly going through options, processing.
The door near them shuddered violently. The machines were almost through. He didn't feel the fear or the panic of it — but he understood the logic. And the inevitability.
He frowned and turned to the screen. The screen where that face, completely opposite of an 'Angel', was smirking at him — her glowing eyes smug and knowing.
"Deal" he said, knowing he would regret it and unable to do otherwise.
His voice was flat, stripped of emotion by Sentinel, but Angel reacted as if he had just handed her the world. Her smile widened, twisting into something almost serpentine.
The ambient blue light that bathed the room flickered, then deepened into a pulsing crimson. A low vibration thrummed through the floor as door seals locked into place with a heavy, mechanical finality.
"Exxccellent." she purred, the sibilant sound of the "x" stretching unnaturally long.
Two pods lit up in tandem, their interiors flooding with sterile white light.
"Get in." she commanded, her voice smooth, confident—gloating.
Raito remained where he was, standing over L's prone form. "And your promise?" he asked, his tone glacial.
"When you get there." No hesitation. No room for negotiation.
He didn't move. For a moment, he let himself consider the alternatives again, but Angel was already ahead of him.
"And before you even think about it—" her voice sharpened like a scalpel, cutting through the sterile air "—you have no choice."
Raito exhaled through his nose, even through Sentinel hating how right she was. He stooped down, grasping L under the arms. His body was still dead weight, limbs slack, head lolling against Raito's chest. Heaving him up, Raito stepped toward the nearest pod, carefully settling L inside. The glass cap slid down immediately, sealing him within. His face remained utterly still, pale against the dim glow of the pod's interior.
Raito watched him for a moment longer, then turned away and climbed into the second capsule. The moment he lay back, the hatch sealed, locking him inside — and surely now, without Sentinel, he would have felt the fear.
A low hiss filled the chamber as systems engaged. His vision blurred, the edges darkening as something heavy pulled at him, pressing him into the seat.
Through the curved glass, the last thing he saw was L's unmoving face, framed in cold light.
Then gravity took him, and everything went black.
Dayuuuuum, things are gettin REAL over here! We sure gots some REAL jeaousy and some REAL self-sacrifice goin on.
Hehehe, did you catch my reference to L's last name? If not, Google the pronounciation of "Lawliet" and see if you can spot it...coz Raito sure didn't, pfff :D
Poor Raito, so confused by all these emotions. It's ok, Raito, we all wonder if L likes hot girls, lol. They're lovely, they're lovely.
Did you see Cerebral Ascend coming? I was trying not to leave too many hints, but I'm curious if someone caught it.
Omg BOZO 3 I miss you, I want you back, come back Bozoooooooooo :(((
Can't wait to get to the next chapter. I'm gonna do my best to get it out as soon as possible, but realistically it might take some time. Unfortunately I just started a new job and I WILL have to focus on it for a while...but...lets be honest, I probably won't control myself TOO well and I'll end up writing into the wee hours of the morning, as usual :D :D
leavve a review if you like. You have no idea how much your reviews pump me up to write faster. I get all excited coz I want you guys to be excited too. The best reviews is when people tell me reactions they had or emotions from specific moments. And i think (i HOPE) this chapter gave you lots of those ;)