Badfic Manor

[Another city, another church. Mello is in St. Patrick's Cathedral, one of the cities oldest and largest Catholic churches. On first entering the church you won't see him, he's in the confessional. No one can hear his hushed voice, not even the faceless Priest who is meant to can. But Mello isn't really concerned about that right now.]

Bless me father for I have sinned, it has been five months since my last--

Who am I kidding? Father, I know you're not really a priest, you're not even really a human being. You're not even actually listening to this, I don't think you can. But it doesn't matter because I know who is listening, even if He has to look in over the Author's shoulder to do it. So don't bother with any phony words or the pieces of prayers you saw in The Exorcist or whatever. I don't need to hear it. I don't need to know what the Author or her puppets think. I just want to be heard.

[He sighs and pauses. The pause extends into seconds, then minutes, nearly three have passed before he speaks]

I should have died once already.

[A scoff]

There are a dozen times I can think of off the top of my head, but, I'm talking about...

[Another pause while Mello runs his fingers over the scar on the left side of his face, the bare tips feeling the jagged flesh of his cheek but his cheek feeling nothing.]

That explosive should have killed me, it should have killed everyone in that building. I built the thing, I know how it should have gone. I was standing well within the blast radius, there was absolutely no way I should have survived. But I did. I wasn't even hurt that badly, sure it messed up my pretty face

[he says this with a voice laced with irony]

but I made it without even going to a hospital. I knew then that there was a reason I survived. I understood what He wanted from me. If I lived it was because I had some role to fill, some job to do. I had a reason to be alive. And I thought I knew what that reason was. I was supposed to kill Kira. I was supposed to topple the false god. I was supposed to restore justice. And even when...even when I thought I'd lost everything there was still that promise. Kira would topple, Kira would die, justice and balance would be restored.

I thought I understood it, I thought I knew what He wanted from me. But now...I'm not so sure anymore. I've been able to ignore it for a while, the whole idea that I'm here in this chick's dream world without any rules or really anything to hold on to. But then B showed up...and now Kira. Kira is here! But there's nothing I can do. If I kill him here he'll come back and even if he dies the most horrible death I can concoct he'll still come back and Yagami'll probably think he's on par with the Almighty for it.

I can't stand seeing him, father. It makes my blood boil, but what the Hell am I supposed to do?! There's no escape, there's no reprise, there's no finality, there's not even a way to disrupt the status qua! I'm just...I'm at a loss. I don't know what to do and I'm out of ideas.

God, please, what do I do? I know I'm probably the last guy on your list right now but I just...I need...help.

[Then as if he hears someone outside Mello curses softly, and squeezes out of the Confessional. He sneaks back into the central nave. He peers around, searching for who came in and if they heard him.]

((OOC: Odds are no one heard his confession but feel free to bump into him in the church or nearby))

[Mello appears on the screen but it is not the Mello people are used to seeing. He appears to be at least three years younger, he can't be more than seventeen. But the most shocking change is what has happened, or hasn't happened, to his left side. The scar that usually tears his face in two is gone. His blue eyes seem sharper somehow, twitchier. In fact "twitchier" is an excellent word to describe Mello at the moment. He scowls into the blackberry, waving his gun around (since his trial has yet to happen (as he's 16 again) Mello is once more armed. When he returns to his usual age and size it will vanish again.)]

Whoever the fuck is responsible for this had better fess up right now. If you answer me in the next ten seconds I'll consider going easy on you. Got it?

[Mello is busily going through the racks of a little French boutique in St. Germain. Outside it's raining again but inside it's warm and music pumps through the floor. Mello removes a pair of tight faded jeans off of the rack and holds them out, appraising them. He tisks his tongue at his own indecision and holds them out towards a nearby chair he has covered with clothes.]

What do you think?

[...oh wait. That's not a pile of clothes, it's Matt. Matt playing pack mule as Mello shops, the blond is clearly enjoying being armed with a credit card a little too much. There are already a few shopping bags around Matt's feet, including one marked with the name "Pierre Hermé", a bag presumably stuffed with chocolate.]

[Mello is sitting on a couch in the library. He's got a book in his hand but is presently ignoring it, instead clawing at the armband his verdict and conviction have forced him to wear. He got off easy, all things considered. When he had just killed Keiichi everyone painted him as some kind of psycho. But now he'd gotten off with self defense, thank God. Not that he didn't deserve it, he just didn't know if his fellow prisoners would see reason.

But it wasn't all good news. First of all, he lost his gun. He was still wearing the holster but now it was no better than a security blanket. He felt completely naked and vulnerable without his weapon. He found himself constantly checking over his shoulder, twitching with every sound, he swore things were passing right in his blind spot and his eyes kept darting to around anxiously. There was that and the promise of cleaning toilets for the next month. "Community service" that stupid rabbit had called it. And finally and most insultingly (in Mello's opinion) was this armband.

It marks him as a criminal but in Mello's case it also made him look more Aryan than usual. While he spent only about five years in his native Germany he still carried the nation's guilt about the atrocities committed there in the '30's and '40s. That was why he was so adamant about getting it off.]

Author, Rabbit, or whoever else is paying attention listen the fuck up. I am not wearing this. I look enough like a goddamn Nazi as it is you don't have to make it worse! Blond haired, blue eyed German with a goddamn red armband?! You might as well paint a swastika on it! So get rid of it before I cut my own arm off!

[He gives it one last futile tug]

Stupid fucking thing