A/N: 'Ello, 'ello. I'm here to deliver unto you's all a story. With everyone's favorite L-sessive, jam-raping psychopath. I do believe his name is Beyond Birthday—or B, BB, Backup, Rue Ryuuzaki, and "L." Of course, he's going to be his usual self; you know, stalking L, kidnapping him, and raep is imminent. But isn't that what we all love about him?

And, surely, there will be L. Of course, my friends. Light will be presenting himself also. I do believe this shall be a Light/L ficlet, with some BB/L; of course. Why? 'Cause there's not enough of those two, even if L doesn't want it (he's just denying it, you know).

Warnings: Gore, violence, gay men on gay men ('CAUSE IT'S JUST PLAIN AWESOME), rape, and other generally dark themes. Oh, and a smidgen of dry humor added into the mix. Oh, and insanity.

Oh, and another warning—I've not yet read Death Note: Another Note, nor have I read How to Read: 13. Why is that? Because I'm a poor little child, that's why. I cannot afford them. But, if anyone's got some torrents, or wants to explain everything to me, feel free.

Disclaimer: Mr. Ohba and Mr. Obata own everything Death Note-affiliated. And, anything that relates to anything else is purely coincidental. All I own is mah fingers, which be typing this story. Oh, and I don't the lyrics below.

"The children asked him if to kill was not a sin
But when he looked so fierce, his mummy butted in
If looks could kill it would have been us instead of him.."

The screeching howl of an alarm was but a faint ring in his ears; the thumping of his own heart the most prominent in his thoughts. He noted with slight distaste that he had already managed to stain his shirt, a disappointing pout on his face as he clicked his tongue. Though, he smirked, the blood felt more natural on his person than his own sweat.

Before long, he noted the soft chuckles that hiccupped between his lips, and he brought up his favorite weapon; licking the mess off of the blade with a satisfied look.

"It's not my jam, but it's fine enough for now." Seemingly pleased with himself, he concealed the object within his back pocket. Eyes the color of crimson scanned the area quickly; every movement caught and memorized with horrifying precision. Noting, and sighing, at the fact that no one had gone after him, he shoved his hands in his pockets and began to stalk away; a slight hop in his step.

"Time to get to work," he mumbled to himself, clapping his hands together like a giddy schoolgirl. "It won't be long, I suppose—he's bound to find out now." He tapped his chin, taking a random left on a corner. Soft, seemingly innocent giggles bubbled forth, and his eyes glimmered in the lamp light.

"No, it shan't be long, my love. I'll see you soon, Lawli."

Miles away, on the eastern hemisphere, a man who bore a striking similarity to the previous was currently in a predicament of his own. He sat perched in his seat, not unlike a cat ready to pounce; his pale toes clinging to the edge of his black chair. Dark eyes, grey and bland, were fixated on a rather sweet object. He looked almost sullen, the hunch of his back protruding more so than usual.

Beside him, his polar opposite sat. Auburn hair framed a chiseled face, the light bangs seeming to kneel before honey-colored eyes. A lean physique sat upright in a chair, posture almost frightening in it's perfection. Plump lips were, though, set in an almost jarring scowl, and the handsome man's gaze was fitted on the figure beside him.

"Ryuuzaki, are you seriously still depressed? It's been over a month, you know." The tanned male crossed his arms and sat back in his chair; eyes narrowing at the man, impatiently awaiting an answer.

Ryuuzaki, though, seemed more than willing to mull over his response, playing with his cake instead of jumping to respond. Then, almost agonizing in his drawl, he deemed it fit to respond. "Yes, Light-kun, I'm still fairly depressed. Why do you ask?" He turned his wide gaze toward the boy, a thumb coming up to rest comfortably between his lips.

The teen, Light, seemed to flinch at the gaze burdened upon him; he would hate to admit it, but Ryuuzaki's stare still unnerved him so. "Because you look like a kicked puppy, moping around like that. And, you know, you could at least do something. Aren't you supposed to be leading this investigation?" Hoping his answer had had some impact on the man before him, Light's gaze gained more confidence than usual.

But, as per usual, Ryuuzaki showed little to no emotion. That was, save for the innocent look that had plastered itself onto the detective's face. "Are you saying that the rest of this team is too incompetent to work on the case—that the only brilliant mind in this room belongs to myself?" Ryuuzaki's head tilted to the left, the thumb resting on his lower lip. "I daresay, Light-kun, that's very presumptuous of you."

A pink tinge found its way to Light's cheeks, and he gave a small huff. "I said no such thing, Ryuuzaki. Do not put words in my mouth."

A feigned look of shock appeared on the detective's face, almost masking the smug aura he was radiating. "Light-kun, I would never! Just because I disagree with your beliefs is no such premise to accuse me of doing such things. I'm just trying to be observational, it is my job, you know."

Light, then, could almost taste the smirk that was worming it's way onto Ryuuzaki's pallid complexion. So, appearing to cover a yawn with his shackled hand, he gave a harsh tug of the chain—effectively knocking L from his perch and to the floor with a surprised gasp.

"Oh God, Ryuuzaki, I'm so sorry!" He gave a gasp and moved to assist the fallen man, noting dully that two other investigators were rushing to the ebony-haired man's aide. He had to hide the scowl that was begging to show itself, as both Mogi and Matsuda squabbled to pull the lithe man up.

Ryuuzaki merely blinked as he was hauled up; flinching slightly at the contact. He shook the hands on his shoulders off and righted himself; coughing into his hand as his did so. "It's quite all right, Light-kun. No harm done. You shouldn't apologize for your own clumsiness. No one's perfect."

At the way Light's faked relief seemed to falter, Ryuuzaki noted that he had won this little battle. It humored him so, his and Light's little tiffs; quite unexpected and welcomed in the tedious day. L would never tell a soul about it, but lately his work had become tedious. That, and the fact that his only suspects seemed so innocent, even amidst the blatant facts that wracked the great detective's brain—L just needed some mental stimulation.

And it elated him so when Light and he began to have these battles of wit. It provided him with means of a game of mental strategy; snarky comments hidden beneath tones, so beautifully acted out that it could fool an entire room of detectives. The current score, to L's immense pleasure, was tipping in his favor.

Yes, he was happy about that; if anything.

"Come," he pulled the metal chain, the harmonious clanks the only sound in the room. He slowly began to walk away, dragging the reluctant suspect behind him. "we're going to scout the news."

A groan behind him only made the ghost of a smirk on his face a little more prominent. "But, Ryuuzaki, there's no point in it. I mean, for god's sake, Sakura TV and all of those other stations are starting to annoy me."

"Everything annoys you, Light-kun," the detective pointed out in a deadpan, curling up on another chair in the adjacent room and plucking the remote between his index finger and thumb. "And, besides, we're going to check international news, because it's not like Kira only kills people in Japan." The tone of his voice made Light growl, the smug bastard chastising him as if he were a small child. Of all the nerve..

Throwing himself into the chair beside his companion, Lights arms had again found his way across his chest. He cracked his neck as his left leg folded atop the left; readying himself for the hours of channel-surfing that ensued.

Ryuuzaki pressed a button on the remote control, and ten screens flashed to life simultaneously. Light could hear different languages all around him; his head pounding slightly as he fought to remember the languages he had studied over the years.

He chose to ignore all of the channels that were not speaking in English—the language he was most confident in with his translating skills. He allowed the French, German, Polish, and Russian broadcasts to be handled by the man beside him; it was safe to assume that the creepy genius would be able to listen to several languages at once.

Shaking his head and ignoring the thoughts of a seven-headed L that wanted to come forth, he focused on one television with feigned interest. It was an American channel, he presumed; noting the accent in which the news lady spoke. 'Los Angeles news at nine, how original'

She spoke adamantly, her pearly whites glaring against her red lipstick. Her eyes shined with practiced enthusiasm, and she paused for a moment to glance down at her papers.

"—earlier today, at around three this morning, there's been a reported escape of a prisoner at a mental institution for criminally insane. This man, whose name is said to be Beyond Birthday, is said to be highly dangerous. Families are encouraged to exercise caution until this man is found. As of now, no picture is available. But, he is described as a pale—"

Light rolled his eyes, not caring in the least about the man the blond woman was warning her town against. Deciding it alright to move on, he honed in on a British newscast, before he noticed out of the corner of his eye the detective; staring at the news channel Light had previously been watching. Light noted, with slight interest, that the broadcast had managed to capture all of the man's attention. He also noticed the small bead of sweat that slowly made its way down the detective's cheek.

"Ryuuzaki," Light shook the man, who flinched out of the boy's grasp. L shook his head and blinked, before turning his gaze toward Light; bland look again on his face.

"Yes?"

"You.. Nevermind."

"You are a weird one, Light-kun." Ryuuzaki sighed and turned away, his attention toward a Spanish broadcast as Light began to splutter about.

"You're one to call someone else odd, you know." Light sighed, dropping the conversation. Though, he shook his head, he couldn't help but ponder over the broadcast that had caused the spindly detective to seemingly blank out.

'Probably nothing. Knowing Ryuuzaki, this is another game.' Light snorted to himself, that was it. It was all just a game to Ryuuzaki, and Light had already caught on.

The detective was not going to win this round easily.

"Wh-Who are you?" And elderly woman croaked from her position on the floor. She stared up at the figure before her in unabashed horror, weeping at the sadistic gleam in her attacker's eye.

"That is of no importance at the moment, ma'am." He stepped around her and began to close the blinds; effectively blocking out any and all unwanted sunlight. The sun had always irritated his eyes, ever since he could remember, so it was safe to assume that was the cause for his pallid manner. "But, I need to know: Are you Ursula Aggenthorp, born on June seventh, nineteen-thirteen?" He turned to gaze at his victim in an almost childish look.

"Y-Yes, bu-but how do you know who-o I am?" She slowly began to crawl away from the imposing, extremely intimidating figure; but was stopped as a bare foot stomped down on her left hand. She let out a soft mewl of pain as she moved her rheumatoid-infected hands away from the man.

"I see all, Ursula." The twisted look came back, and suddenly a sharp object was soon waving about in his hand. "I know more about you than you believe I do." He brandished the weapon with a smirk, and noted the way the elderly woman trembled.

"What's the matter?" He pouted, a childish façade on his features. A childish demeanor radiated from his being, and he got on all fours and crawled toward the lady. "You don't wanna play anymore, miss?"

Before she could respond, her throat was met with a knife and cut with enough efficiency to only silence the woman, not kill her off. The attacker smiled as the woman's eyes bulged out of her head, and her attempts to scream only came out as gargled chokes.

"Such a silly look, ma'am." He giggled and crawled atop the woman, resting on her plastic hip. He wiped his knife on his pant leg and looked at her still-bulging eyes; pouting at the ogling he was receiving. "You know," he hissed, "if you do not know how to stare with respect, than you don't deserve to see."

Suddenly, a blade squeezed underneath the woman's right eye, ejecting it out of it's socket with a suckling, popping noise. He repeated the action with the other eye, before slicing the nerves that connected the appendages to her body.

"Now, now, isn't that better? No more nasty looks, ma'am." Another round of giggles., and he waved the dangling objecting in his hands before juggling them. "Though, honestly, you can't say that you don't enjoy the dark. I know I do." He thumped his chest with pride. "C'mon.. answer me. Oh!" Another round of sickening guffaws as he thumped his forehead gently. "You can't even speak, can you? Silly B."

He continued to speak to the silenced woman, chattering aimlessly as he watched her lifespan dwindle before his eyes. Then, as the last few moments of her life donned before him, he began to hack away at one of her wrists. "Such a tedious task, Ms. Aggenthorp. You have too much meat on you, you know? Your skin's all dangly, as well. But, I guess that's what I get for choosing you, isn't it?"

He made a triumphant noise when he heard the sound of bone being sawed. He began to hum along to the rhythmic sounds of the act, before whooping as he finished his job, ripping the remaining flesh away as he stood.

"Almost done, here." Smearing blood on his forehead as he wiped sweat from his brow, he began to move her fingers around to form a letter in sign language. When he finished, he placed it precariously in the middle of a coffee table as though it were an important artifact.

Then came the boring part, he groaned. He pulled on a pair of gloves as he ran to the kitchen and took a sponge. It's not any fun playing a game if there's evidence around to incriminate him.

Thus, with that in mind, Beyond Birthday began the arduous task of cleaning the entire household; humming slightly as he thought about the man he was doing it for.

A/N: OH, B! You silly goose, that's not a game. It's murder! He's a joker, isn't he, folks? So disturbing, huh? I apologize if I scared someone off. And I know Beyond is presumed dead, but too bad. I want him living, because he's awesome.

Leave some words of encouragement, or hell, just tell me I'm a freak! I'm here to hear what you think of it. Please, do not be afraid.

Leave a review, loves.