Badfic Manor

[The feed clicks on, obnoxiously close to B's face as though he's posing for a Myspace picture.]

Oh. It is on. Back off slowly now- [A chorus of giggling ensues as the video slowly pans out to show B sitting on the floor in the dealer's room completely surrounded by fluffy plushies, wearing these slippers as well as a small pile of books. On the top of that pile? THIS. That's right, the King of Death Note spoilers, How to Read 13. And now that B has read it, religiously, cover to cover, he has a few announcements to make. With the help of a few fangirls. Yes, B has made "friends" with them.]

Manorites, your undivided attention, please.

[The thumb goes to lip, and his other hand dangles How to Read 13 by the corner. More giggling as the fangirls behind the camera squeal at the familiar mannerisms.]

Today is our prosecutor-san's birthday! If you should see him, wish him a Happy Birthday, lest he suffer a psychotic break down. His name is Mikami Teru, and he's very shy~~ Especially you two, Mels. Nathaniel.

In fact-! [The video shakes slightly. B rummages around his bag of goodies to produce this ]

We bought you a present Mi~ka~rin~ [He waves the Light plushie around conducting the fangirls behind the camera as they all burst into the Birthday song. ]

Also~ [ He sets the plushie down, and picks up a doujinshi. YES. B HAS DISCOVERED YAOI DOUJINSHI. And sorry Grimmjow, Ulquiorra, but it's one of you two. He flips to a random page. ]

Mother and Father are quite kinky, it seems~ Mraow! Hee.

Oh! [What you didn't think B was done, did you? He picks up a large poster. It's commissioned fan art of him drawn as Batman, and L as a random Lackey. ] I think they caught my best side, these artists did. What do you think, Manorites? Lawli?

P.S [In a very, very exaggerated whisper.] Dumbledore is gay.

[ The feed cuts off.]

[Any Manorites unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity of one Hayato Gokudera's place of abode, also known as Room thirty-five, will notice one rather alarming change to the premises: it's no longer there. Where did it go, one might ask?

Back up Rewind to an earlier time, a peaceful time in which B's wrath had not been invoked by that very same Hayato Gokudera by being set aflame. Under usual circumstances, B is quite difficult to irritate. Ending up with a shiny burn wound on his left shoulder, not once, but twice now in this Manor, is not a usual circumstance. But it's quite tricky to get even in a place that doesn't behave quite the same way as he would like it to. People don't stay dead here. People return completely healed, which meant one thing: Destroying the objects that B is certain would not return. Property in other words. Self immolation, Arson. Only one step removed, and in B's mind, more than justified. He wouldnt harm Gokudera himself, just his possessions. All of them.

When there aren't any prying eyes around, B creeps to Room Thirty Five, vat of leftover gasoline in hand. The boy had dynamite in his possession, B had seen that much in their last confrontation. He probably wouldn't even need the gasoline.

Fate plays into B's hands in that he was extraordinarily lucky to return to a Manor falling apart. It meant no surveillance cameras, no security alarms- nothing to protect poor little Gokudera's empty room from the blaze. Breaking the door off rusty hinges also proves to be quite easy, despite the protestations from his bad shoulder.
Gasoline is poured all over Gokudera's bed, his table, his books- anything that looks to be of significance. He contemplates leaving the Roman Numeral "XIII" behind, but there's no point. B won't allow anything to survive this game that Gokudera had started.

[Had Beyond Birthday cared to put in the effort, he could probably name the exact genus and species of the prehistoric flora that surrounded him. He did not care. The only thing that matters at the moment is that this place is not Room four-oh-four. His thoughts are scattered in chaotic disarray, an unpredictable, teeming mass of anger, annoyance, and desperation hidden behind a deadpan mask enhanced by perfectly applied powder. Wammy's had taught their projects well. For all of Beyond's anguish --all his plans derailed!-- not a single trace of it was broadcast through the Blackberry. Or rather, none of it would have been broadcast. Suspicious, and paranoid, Beyond Birthday would not reveal his face, for he knew very well the value of a person's face, to individuals unknown. Long fingers encircle the device, his voice, an almost soothing, rumbly sound in-between tenor and baritone. An oddly zen tone, considering his rather....unique circumstances.]

Good evening.

[A short pause, as B wets his lips.]

My name is Ryuzaki. I seem to be...

[A second pause, as he searches for the appropriate word. Lost? Confused? He frowns in the darkness. Subjective information would hardly be helpful to anyone.]

... sitting on top of a creature, a ceratopsid, long extinct. A triceratops to be exact. What is the meaning of this?