I thought of you, and my worst brings out the best in you.
[It's a slow, silent creep that he's had perfected since his days spent tailing Misa Amane and Mogi for Mello - years since he first utilized it, to tail that cute crazy bitch that was probably the world's most widespread mass murderer and her ignorant bodyguard.
These days, though, it's better put to use chasing after cheating wives and ruthless mafia leaders - something Matt had known that Mello was, before the fucker went off and got himself rendered irreversably dead.
The asshole.
Running off to finish the shit with Kira, to plug up the hole in Near's plan, and completely shove Matt right out of the entire thing. That made him more than an asshole - that made him the worst prick he'd ever known. The fight the night before, when Matt woke up in the armchair, the very same one he'd been sitting in when he'd first disappeared, was horrible; it had very quickly devolved into a fistfight, with Mello pulling his gun on Matt for the first time ever. The redhead had reluctantly backed off, leaving the apartment and never returning. He'd sat, alone, in a bar the next night, staring over his endless shots of whiskey at the television set up in the corner; the fuckers on the news kept going over and over that fucking fire, and that two sets of remains had been recovered - one being the body of Kiyomi Takada, the Kira spokesperson bitch. The other was unidentified, but Matt knew who it was. He knew exactly who it was.
Now, almost two years later to the day, he finds himself sneaking along the sidewalk, making sure to keep a low profile as he trails just far enough behind the known mafia ringleader - this guy is wanted, and the payday, if Matt can supply a firm address, will be enough to live off for quite some time. He's due for something good, anyway.
Right as he's turning the corner, carefully, a hand grabs his left shoulder from behind, its grip hard and alarming; his eyes widen, but before he can react properly, he feels the stinging burn in his back right side. His back seizes as the knife sinks in deep, so deep it cuts right into his kidney, and he jerks forward, held still only by the hand still gripping his shoulder. His right arm snaps straight to his side, grabbing a weak hold on the gloved hand at the hilt of the knife; it's a long one, possibly a hunting knife?
Suddenly, Matt goes dizzy just as the pain spreads; the assailant yanks the knife back out, and Matt curses under his breath, his face twisting in pain as it sinks into him again, and again, and again... Finally, the ground starts to come closer, and he collapses face-first onto the ground, blinking only once as he sighs, watching blood soak into the asphalt before everything goes dark.
After an unknown amount of time, Matt blinks again, and the light comes back; it's dimmer than the cold gray the sky had been when he was outside, tracking the mob boss, and, realizing that the sharp pain is gone, he starts to sit up.
Carpet instead of asphalt. Intricately patterned wallpaper. A hallway, full of doors and completely lacking in windows.
A fucking hallway.
He stares.]
You've got to be fucking shitting me.
[[ooc: YAY! Red's rearrival! *squishes him* AU!Matt, from a world where Kira is was Misa Amane, and Light is was the second Kira. He's dead, so no name or lifespan for those with the eyes, and he's from the year 2011; for you guys, it's been days since he disappeared, but to him, he's been gone for two years. :D Also! He's wearing blue jeans, a striped t-shirt, and boots; no goggles.]]