(no subject)
[ When Beyond Birthday awoke on Christmas day to the festive smells of a feast, it was as though he hadn't slept at all. A severed head had been in his hand only seconds ago, it seemed. And during this distorted reality, he had an enemy who was not L.
A friend that was not L.
And although he believed he could not leave Mayfield, nevertheless he supported that friend. Living up to his old codename from Wammy House. He had been... that person's support, their 'Backup.' The one thing he never wanted to be thought of. And yet, he was playing that role for someone besides L. For someone who couldn't even come close to being L. How? ...Why?! He could not for the life of him remember what was so great about that person.
And speaking of Backup, that child had made an appearance as well. Those short days, in which the flames of his competition with L were just beginning to be stoked, he had thrown all of his efforts into solving the mystery before him. Methodically. Vigorously. B of the Wammy House still had something to fight for. He couldn't wait to bring Mayfield to its knees, and present it to L.
Those two selves were so vastly different. Were they really both him?
Unable to think about anything else, Beyond Birthday lay in silence for a long while, shutting his eyes to draw long breaths. A moment passed, and he half-heartedly practiced his evil laugh. Another moment passed, and he was once again silent.
... In truth, Beyond Birthday did not like himself. Either self.
Why couldn't he have turned into L during this event? Now that would have been enlightening.]
[Once he's finally pulled himself out of bed, he finds that a voice scrambler was waiting for him under the tree. The kind that he was always instructed to use while doing his detective work. His identity as L's successor was a sacred thing. But that identity was something he no longer had. It seemed Mayfield wanted to jerk him between this and that reality.
Well, so be it. He set up the scrambler to his phone. B's true voice would rarely be heard again.
In that sense, maybe he could die in Mayfield.]
[A long silence before a voice speaks over the phones. It is entirely distorted, so that you can't tell what kind of voice it is at all.]
Merry Christmas, unwilling citizens of Mayfield.
Many of you have experienced what you might consider a flash-forward of your future in ten years. This is certainly a lie.
Why? Because I'm here, and I never leave a case unsolved. Ten years of your captivity is impossible.
I am L.
[An empty promise that would fool nobody, he was sure.
But it sure felt good to say it.
... God, he missed him.]
A friend that was not L.
And although he believed he could not leave Mayfield, nevertheless he supported that friend. Living up to his old codename from Wammy House. He had been... that person's support, their 'Backup.' The one thing he never wanted to be thought of. And yet, he was playing that role for someone besides L. For someone who couldn't even come close to being L. How? ...Why?! He could not for the life of him remember what was so great about that person.
And speaking of Backup, that child had made an appearance as well. Those short days, in which the flames of his competition with L were just beginning to be stoked, he had thrown all of his efforts into solving the mystery before him. Methodically. Vigorously. B of the Wammy House still had something to fight for. He couldn't wait to bring Mayfield to its knees, and present it to L.
Those two selves were so vastly different. Were they really both him?
Unable to think about anything else, Beyond Birthday lay in silence for a long while, shutting his eyes to draw long breaths. A moment passed, and he half-heartedly practiced his evil laugh. Another moment passed, and he was once again silent.
... In truth, Beyond Birthday did not like himself. Either self.
Why couldn't he have turned into L during this event? Now that would have been enlightening.]
[Once he's finally pulled himself out of bed, he finds that a voice scrambler was waiting for him under the tree. The kind that he was always instructed to use while doing his detective work. His identity as L's successor was a sacred thing. But that identity was something he no longer had. It seemed Mayfield wanted to jerk him between this and that reality.
Well, so be it. He set up the scrambler to his phone. B's true voice would rarely be heard again.
In that sense, maybe he could die in Mayfield.]
[A long silence before a voice speaks over the phones. It is entirely distorted, so that you can't tell what kind of voice it is at all.]
Merry Christmas, unwilling citizens of Mayfield.
Many of you have experienced what you might consider a flash-forward of your future in ten years. This is certainly a lie.
Why? Because I'm here, and I never leave a case unsolved. Ten years of your captivity is impossible.
I am L.
[An empty promise that would fool nobody, he was sure.
But it sure felt good to say it.
... God, he missed him.]