A/N: Major inconsistencies with the manga. Just forget everything you know about the time line of Death note. All you need to know is characters and their relations to each other. All that matters is who each individual is and the basics of Death note. This is AU. And my first death note fic. I was looking through them all, and I realized that even though Mello was one of Light's three major conflicts as Kira (and by three majors, I mean L, Near and Mello), there were so few fics involving Light and Matt. Matt was fighting him too, and I wanted to know what it would be like if Light and Matt were to come face to face. But there weren't enough fics, and so I decided to do it myself and write my own. I hope you enjoy, and please review.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death note. I gain no profit.

XXX This is just a teaser chapter. Review and tell me if you think I should continue. If you don't review, I can't continue I WILL REEDIT THIS FIRST CHAPTER, AND MAKE IT BETTER, SHINIER, IF I DECIDE TO CONTINUE THE STORY. XXX

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Four days. That's how long it'd been since the last time Mello had been home, the last time Mello had called him and asked for an update on surveillance. Matt remembered vaguely feeling the concern stab restlessly at his chest after the first twenty four hours of absence. What was living, if it weren't for Mello there, chirping away on the phone about his plans, or stomping around the apartment, picking arguments over stupid shit that wouldn't matter in a few hours? Mello had turned into a such a frequent daily routine that Matt didn't know what to do with all the sudden solitude.

Deliberately ignoring the unchanging screens of his 'charges' Matt turned away and busied himself with daily rituals that seemed increasingly pointless. After a second shower, beating eleven levels on the new video game Mello had unwittingly bought him, and a late lunch, Matt left the apartment. Even as he was locking the door, he knew he shouldn't be leaving. He knew he should be watching the annoying black and white television screens for changes. He knew sooner or later Mello would call him and demand a report on the past four days. But Matt didn't care. He'd deliberately left his cell phone on the kitchen table. If Mello could ignore him, then he sure as hell could ignore Mello.

Four blocks away, while on his 21st cigarette, Matt realized that he was being watched. He also realized that it'd been too long since he left Wammy's house, because he couldn't discover from where his stalker was hiding. The stalker was far enough away so he couldn't hear the footfalls, even when he listened hard specifically for them. Eyes darting from left to right, trained hard beneath his tinted goggles, and he was sure this person was behind him. A few sharp turns later and he was sure the person following him had to realize that he knew he was being tailed.

A hand gripped his shoulder hard, forcing a shocked gasp from his blackened lungs, and while kicking himself for not hearing the attacker before he got so close, Matt spun around and away from the contact. The complicated defense techniques he'd learned at Wammy's resurfaced immediately. Matt had taught himself other strategies, strategies that Wammy's seemed to have forgotten. The killing point. Fighting dirty. His body moved fluidly, his arms blocked his face every time the attacker focused on it with hardened fists, and he managed to dance out of reach every time the attacker made another grab for him. In the back of his mind, Matt knew he had been underestimated by whoever had chosen to take a hit out on him. This goon was too big, too heavy and powerful. He couldn't keep up with Matt's speed and every time he swung and missed, he had to frantically regain his balance.

A punch that Matt's frantic mind didn't catch hit him hard in the ribs, forcing the air from his lungs in one pained 'whoosh'. He more so felt the crack of his ribs rather than heard it. Clumsily blocking a weak punch to his face, he left his injured ribs exposed. 'Nice'. The second punch to his ribs was harder than the first and the gasp came out as an audible yelp. He didn't even try to block the third and fourth punch. The pain was quickly getting to him and he hated it. The punches were gaining momentum, forcing yelp after yelp from him every time they landed on his ribs. Darkness enveloped him before the punches stopped, even when he consciously tried to fight it off.