Welcome To The Family Ch 14 Things Don’t Go My Way
A/N: This is a Death Note fanfic. I don't own Death Note.
As one of the huge, enraged, faceless guards rushed into his cell L reflected on how, so far, everything had gone according to plan. He had managed to get one hand loose after hours of struggling in the dark and now he’d managed to force a confrontation. He had yet to see how much he’d regret this decision. Theoretically he could’ve fought back but to do so would mean, quite literally, revealing his hand. Besides, L preferred not to fight with his hands. His hands were delicate and much needed for playing with candy and typing on his laptop. He was better at fighting with kicks anyway. (Now if he had one foot free he could’ve wiped the floor with this loser…) So, with the discipline won from years of training the detective kept still, arranging his hand so that to the casual eye it would still appeared to be bound.
The human hand has twenty seven bones (not counting the sesamoid bones the number of which varies from person to person) many of them tiny and easily breakable, especially when slamming them into someone else’s face. As Ikari drew back his fist L took some solace from that fact-right before the moment of impact the detective could see and project from the awkward angle that the guard was going to hit wrong and break his hand. L forced his body to go as limp as a ragdoll at the moment of impact. While this wasn’t exactly something he was looking forward to, the detective knew how to take a beating-he had a few years of experience.
The detective was soon sensing the familiar explosion of pain and bright lights from behind his eyelids as his attacker howled with simian fury. However the detective wasn’t too concerned about that-he couldn’t afford to be-he had to focus on the task at hand. Of course L knew a concussion was never something to take lightly but his fever helped numb his perceptions-it was as if the whole sordid thing was happening far away and to someone else. The only thing that assured him that this was real was the pain. His attacker drew back his fist to hit him again and again. The detective silently took the hits and concentrated on the plan. If he just survived this he was confident that he would be successful. The guard wrapped his beefy hands around his neck and squeezed.
Just as the world was beginning to go dark around the edges his attacker was abruptly ripped off him by another guard. L immediately, desperately wheezed in oxygen and hoped that it was over now.
“We have our orders! The boss lady says he remains alive!” his rescuer, the guard L thought of as “Bob” (the one who he noticed was sympathetic towards him), shouted over the other’s unintelligible shrieks of rage. L’s attacker continued to throw a tantrum and struggled to resume his assault but the other steadfastly held him back.
“Dude, it’s not worth it. You’re giving him what he wants!”
“Six! Fucking! Hours!” Ikari snarled. “He’s been at it for six fucking hours! How can you be so calm about this?”
“I have a two-year old son at home so I’m used to having someone try to drive me insane…. What’s wrong?” Bob asked when the other guard quite obviously cringed in pain.
“I think I broke my hand…” Ikari whined.
“Yes, on the prisoner’s face-when the boss said he was not to be harmed. Don’t expect sympathy.”
Ikari winced again, this time in fear, and L profiled him as merely a pathetic bully.
“Why don’t you go home and take a breather? I’ll cover for you.”
“Thanks, man. You’re a lifesaver. But you know if I hear “Call Me Maybe” one more time I swear I’m going on an arson rampage,” Ikari grumbled to himself as he, unfortunately, lingered by the door.
“You really shouldn’t give him ideas,” Bob muttered darkly before turning to the prisoner and asking in quite a reasonable tone “Hey, could you please keep it down in here? The boss lady said not to kill you but if you keep singing the guys are probably gonna ignore that and kill you, anyway-no matter what the boss lady’s orders are.”
On his prison cot the detective lay very still. He was sorely tempted to rub at his bruised and throbbing neck but he couldn’t risk exposure. He just hoped to get rid of the guards as soon as possible.
L merely made a grunting noise in affirmation. As Ikari had so eloquently put it, he had been singing for six fucking hours-neither that nor the choking session had been easy on his throat. He felt crowded with the two guards surrounding him in the cell. He wasn’t comfortable in speaking face to face with anyone for any length of time, his cheek was swelling where he’d been hit and he probably had a shiner to go with it, and his mouth and throat felt dry and raw from his singing and his sickness, and he knew that this stress really wasn’t helping his fever.
“Look, I know you must be bored and all…”
The detective nearly laughed. For once being bored was the least of his worries…
“What the hell are you doing? Babysitting isn’t in our job description,” Ikari snarled. Bob ignored him. “He’s probably thirsty too… Hey, I’ll give you my Gatorade if you stop singing for a while. Okay?” Bob bargained as he waved the sugary sports drink in front of the deprived sugar junkie’s bugged out eyes. The detective was momentarily thrown by the strange, suspicious show of kindness but Bob’s concern sounded genuine and L really was thirsty.
“Deal,” croaked out L and Bob helped pour the neon blue liquid down the sickly detective’s parched throat
Oh sweet divine nectar of empty calories!
The detective hummed in pleasure as he swallowed down every drop of the sugary drink. He barely managed to gasp out a weak-sounding “Thanks, Bob” when he was finished.
The guard seemed to regard him strangely through the darkened helmet.
“How did you know my name-wait. You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know. There’s too much freaky shit around here. Just like the other one...”
“Wait, your name really is Bob?” L asked incredulously.
Bob wasn’t exactly a Japanese name but L knew that while many members of Blue Ship were Japanese since their organization started in Japan; K had since recruited a hodgepodge of henchmen from every continent-equal opportunity evil. “Bob” spoke with an American accent, California regional, and from his slight asthmatic wheezing indicative of smog-damaged lungs L could deduce that it was 98% likely he was from the Los Angeles area.
“Yup, Bob Bottomslash. From the ancient and noble house of Bottomslash,” the guard informed him with utter deadpan delivery.
“What are you thinking? Telling him your name?!” hissed Ikari as he watched L and Bob’s congenial interactions with growing disbelief.
Bob shrugged. “What’s he gonna do? Tell Kira? Do you really think that those two are in bed together?”
“Bottomslash?!” L murmured and the guard’s posture seemed to stiffen.
“People are always making fun of my name.”
“I meant no disrespect…” If you think that’s tough you should try growing up as a boy named “L.”
Before Wammy found him L had resided at another orphanage where the children and even some of the adults would call him “Ellie,” and tease him, and say he must really be a girl. He couldn’t help but agree that his parents must have been crack heads… but then at least he didn’t have a name like Bottomslash. Wait… Bottomslash… where have I heard that name before…? It just seemed important somehow. L frowned. He would have thought for sure that he’d remember encountering a name like “Bottomslash” before….
Bottomslash. Bob Bottomslash.
B.B.
L squeezed his “bound” hands into fists but forced his face to remain its usual blank mask.
“Er…. By any chance is Bob short for Robert?”
“Nope, just Bob.”
That bastard! That absolute bastard!
It became all too apparent to the detective why they selected a friendly one with that name to be his guard.
“Well, er… Bob… you seem like an okay guy… I hope you do realize that your boss will get rid of you as soon as you’re no longer useful?”
Bob shrugged. “How is that different from any other job? It was either this or Walmart and this gig has a great dental plan.”
The detective suppressed a sigh. He didn’t suppose he could convince the man his life was in danger. Admittedly, it had been nice to have someone to talk to that wasn’t calling for his blood even if he was an easily offended idiot (L supposed, in a completely unrelated tangent, that was part of the beauty of his relationship with Light-he could say whatever the hell he wanted to Light and Light would still have to act civil or L would raise his Kira percentage.)
“Well, it was nice talking with you, Bob Thanks for the drink.”
L could feel the other guard’s glaring, and killing intent, even from beneath his helmet.
“C’mon, Bob. And you! I don’t want to hear another word out of you!”
“Alright, I promise I will not sing another word,” the detective said solemnly.
If Ikari were any smarter he might have been a bit more suspicious about the wording, let alone the way the detective was smiling.
“You’d better not!” Ikari snarled as the guards left and the metal door slammed shut again with a resounding clang.
The detective waited awhile, making sure that no more guards would come rushing in anytime soon, and tested the waters by quietly humming the Mission Impossible theme (the guard said he didn’t want to hear another word. He said nothing about humming…) When there was no answering growl from the other side of the door L smiled in the dark triumphantly. It seemed they truly believed him cowed. Human perceptions were such a funny thing-L knew all too well from his chosen profession that if one is focused on one thing it was all too easy to miss the obvious-such as how when Ikari was busy beating him L had managed to lift the keycard off the guard’s belt and hide it in his long greasy hair.
Stage 1 of his escape plan was complete. That just left Stage 2-escape the cell, knock out a guard (hopefully not Bob), and steal his all-concealing moon suit. That should also help prevent him from spreading K’s virus and infecting the world. L called it Operation Stormtrooper. (He hadn’t actually named the first phase of his plan. Looking back on it though… perhaps Operation Stupid? Operation Pain? Operation Fuck-I’m-Not-Doing-That-Again? L figured he’d leave that part out if he ever again so took leave of his faculties and felt compelled to write his autobiography.)
It was far from a perfect plan. In fact it had several flaws-the suit would drastically hinder his movements so it would become difficult to defend himself in a fight. L was hoping to leave undetected so that there wouldn’t be a need for him to fight. When he took the suit he would undoubtedly infect the guard he “borrowed” the suit from. And finally, he’d have to stand up straight-because if L suddenly went missing and suddenly a slouching guard appeared that was bound to attract attention. That seemed the most insurmountable issue- Kira? K? Faceless mooks? Zombie Beyond Birthday? Bring ‘em on! But L wasn’t sure he could defeat his scoliosis, a condition which had been long nurtured by his years of work crouched in front of a computer screen. Stand up straight? His back gave an audible crack of protest at the mere thought!
Oh well, he’d burn that bridge before he came to it… or something. Damn, he needed sugar and caffeine. Mostly sugar. At this rate he was going into a diabetic coma!
L had just freed himself from the bonds and sat up on the bed when he nearly had a heart attack.
“Naughty, naughty Lawli dearest!”
Damnit!
“What’s the matter? Got nothing to say? And here I was so hoping you would serenade me some more!” The thing asked as he slowly dragged a dull claw down L’s face, digging into his already bruised and bloody cheek. The explosion of pain confirmed his fears. There was no denying it. This wasn’t a dream. He was wide awake, and there was no way he was imagining those crimson eyes burning in the dark.
L’s worst nightmare leered at him from the end of the bed.
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