"Good morning Mr. Tailor." the computer-distorted voice echoes around my cell. Uncurling from atop my thin mattress, I sit up and raise my face to the camera. In a weary tone I reply,

"Good morning L. Come to give me any good news?"

"Your appeal has just been dismissed. You've been scheduled to die by lethal injection at 4pm tomorrow." the voice says dispassionately. I can do nothing but hang my head slightly, feeling nothing.

The evidence that L had gathered against me had been totally unquestionable and I had been bested at every turn. The bile rises in my throat.

…Death by lethal injection. I detest needles.

My name is Lind L. Tailor and I have been convicted of five counts of murder, six counts of conspiracy to murder, three counts of drug trafficking and fifteen counts of forgery. I'd like to note that I was also tried for one count of regicide, but that it was dismissed at the last minute.

"Congratulations. You've completely beaten me." I state in a soft voice that I'm so proud does not waver.

"I find no pleasure in your death, Mr. Tailor." L says, his distorted voice sounding almost reproachful. "I have simply brought you to justice."

I barely refrain from rolling my eyes and do not respond. There are a few moments of silence before he speaks again.

"Do you know what today is?"

I look towards the camera blandly. "I don't even know what time it is."

"It's your twenty fourth birthday." The voice states neutrally. I laugh, though it comes out as a choke.

"You're probably the only person in the whole world who has remembered." I press the heel of my palms into my eyes and thank God that I have never been one for crying.

"I have a present for you, Mr. Tailor." L says after a moment. I look up sharply.

"Don't taunt me, L. Don't give me hope." I warn softly.

"As you have been locked in here for a significant amount of time, you would not be aware of a serial murderer who has recently come to global attention. To this hour, he has killed over two hundred people throughout five continents in the past week. All the victims have died of heart attacks, seemingly without the killer laying a hand on any of them."

I raise an eyebrow sceptically. "It sounds more like some kind of disease."

"Every single victim has been a criminal whose face and name have been made public."

That hits me hard for a reason that I can't quite pinpoint. For a second I almost forget that I am on death row. "A vigilante? Are you sure that it's even possible? It sounds like God is carrying out some kind of judgment upon the world."

"To be perfectly honest, I don't know." L states, his distorted voice sounding somehow clearer to my ears than before. "But I do know that Kira, as he is being called, must be stopped."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"I am planning to challenge Kira on live television. I also wish to test the extent of his ability."

There's a sudden weight in the bottom of my stomach. "My name and face haven't been released to the public. You want me as bait." I deadpan, understanding immediately what he means.

Wonderful present.

"If you are not killed by Kira at that day and time, you will be acquitted of all your crimes and be free to go." L says evenly.

I take a shaky breath. "What are the chances of my being killed?"

"Sixty seven point two percent."

"And what are the chances of me accepting this deal?"

"Eighty nine point three percent."

I stand for the first time since the interview began and walk to the other end of my small cell, pressing my forehead against the cold wall.

"My gut feeling is that I'll be killed." I whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear. There is a long silence and I start to wonder if he'll say anything more.

"That is my gut feeling too." He finally replies. I softly hit my head against the wall twice.

"I'll bet heart attacks hurt."

To this he does not respond and I don't really expect him to.

"You know I'm going to say yes." I eventually state, still refusing to look at the camera.

"I do, but I need you to say it."

I screw up my face and hiss, "I'll be your bait." Far from refusing to look at the camera, I don't think that I'm even able to move.

"Thank you Mr. Tailor." The computer-distorted voice sounds so cold to my ears that I cannot hold back a shiver that runs down my spine. "Your script shall be delivered with your meal. Please memorise it before this time tomorrow. Happy twenty fourth birthday."

I hear the soft click that tells me he's gone and the audio link has been cut. The camera itself never shuts off.

I hear a rattle at my door and a slot opens to deliver me my meal. Beside the unappetising pile of something is a page of neatly typed paper.

"Bastard…" I mutter and walk across the small room, picking up the manuscript and skim reading it. Not particularly long. Hopefully I'll live long enough to complete it.

I look back towards the tray and am surprised to see a small piece of solid pink on a white plate. I blink and realise that it's cake.

Beside it is a square of paper; 'Strawberry is my favourite too.'

I don't even stop to wonder how L knew that, instead picking up the tiny fork that was supplied and delicately carving off a corner.

It's ridiculously delicious.

As I slowly take another bite, I'm belatedly surprised to find tears running down my cheeks. Since when did I cry?

Since this was probably going to be my last birthday. My last piece of cake. My last piece of heaven before hell.

I laugh bitterly and swallow the sweetness.