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"The Sound of Silence"
By C.K. Blake

He was different, he knew from his earliest moments of comprehension. He remembers the moment the kindly looking old man took his hand, promised him a destiny. He was five years old, a skinny, long limbed boy who knew more about death than most. The old man never even had to introduce himself, the child could see his name in bright red letters floating above his head, what was left of the old man's lifespan floating beneath the letters.

He remembers the moment he set foot on the soil of Wammy's House, the other children running around in the yard, for once a sunny day in England. He remembers the other children, they knew he was different, it was his eyes, they always gave him away. He was something not altogether human, and death was his well kept shroud. It wasn't that he kept to himself, it was that they avoided him. That didn't matter though; Mr. Wammy had promised him a destiny.

The moment he met Archer Alternate was the moment that destiny was set upon him, a small thing yet, just a taste of the things to come.

He curls up on his side, his long arms wrapped around his legs, his knees pressed to his thin, scarred chest. He takes in a deep breath, but he can't stop it, a cracked, chilling laugh spills from his lips, his scarred body quivering with the effort as his cursed eyes slip shut and the memories flood him, years of failure, never being good enough, the memories taunting him, just like that damn bastard Archer, but there is one worse than Archer.

When the old man had picked him, taken him in, saw to his education, he accepted this without question, just grateful for the escape from the madness of his mother and the wary looks from the social workers. Of course he realized the moment he laid eyes on the thin, spindly, barefoot youth, standing with his shoulders hunched, his black hair wild, and wearing just baggy blue jeans and a white shirt, that this was his destiny, his rebirth, the true birth of what he was meant to be. This was the moment that he'd waited for his entire short life, while Archer became A, Beyond was reborn B, and he would become the best.

He snorts at the memories. So ridiculous, perhaps a result of his mother's madness. He uncurls his body from the bed, his bare feet hitting the cold concrete of his cell as he gets up and takes the few steps across the cell to look into the mirror. His eyes blaze red, his curse, his destiny. He looks at the reflection, but his name and lifespan is the only one he's never been able to see. He laughs again, the eerie sound echoing throughout his cell.

He stares at his reflection, his mouth wide in a gruesome grin, his black hair finally growing back in patches, his body scarred, twisted on the outside now as much as on the inside. He will never look like L again. He failed in surpassing L, in being his one unsolvable case. In a twist of bitter irony he finally understands why perfect, proper Archer, A, ended it all. Not even L can live up to the expectations that come with his title, and L's time is almost up. He remembers L's last visit a few short weeks ago, seeing that name floating above the detective's head, envious of the numbers left in L's lifespan, envious and smug with the knowledge.

L's been born unto his destiny and his death finally. Beyond Birthday throws his head back in peals of mad, inhuman laughter, let L chase this Kira, this man with the destiny meant for B.

Turning to look toward the metal door of his cell he notices the eyes of one of the guards looking through the small window in the door. The guard is young, new to the job, and is obviously afraid. Let him be afraid, B only laughs harder. That's when it happens. He can feel the sharp pinch in his chest, his left arm goes numb, his red eyes widen further as he continues to laugh while gasping for breath as his legs crumble beneath him, and finally, finally his destiny is met. Finally he is born unto death.

-End