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Adrenaline Rush

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Best of cruel intentions.
Finding what they fail to mention.
No truth, all pretension.
Raise your hand to get attention.
- Red Stars, The Birthday Massacre

Prologue

The air is a little too thick for his taste, the temperature stifling and the air, nauseating. It smells too much of weed, cigarettes, sex and sweat. It all would have been disgusting to him, had he been a less driven sort of man. Or not a man, not yet anyway, but Mello is growing fast, both physically as well as mentally.

The area is crowded with people, sweaty bodies pressed against one another on the makeshift dance floor, ignoring the haphazard wreck around them. In almost every corner of the room, he sees cobwebs, old furniture or shattered glass. Dust is coating every inch of the littered space. Blinding neon lights flash and flicker, and he can feel the music pulsing around him.

Mello, being a sheltered sort of boy, is not at all used to this. He finds it all overwhelming, confusing, and even annoying. He sees scantily clad women and couples grinding against each other. Others are drinking themselves stupid in a corner, or even inhaling a white, powdery substance that Mello suspects is a drug. He feels out of place, standing there in his modest black cotton pants and long-sleeved shirt. He doesn't belong here.

A drunken man squeezes past him and Mello inwardly frets. He does not like being touched by these barbarians -these Neanderthals- but he knows he cannot voice his opinion aloud there. It will only draw attention, and he is also short on time. Mello is on a mission, and he will –in one way or the other- get what he has come here for. What he wants.

If otherwise, then damn, but he won't leave. Mello has been trailing after his quick-moving target nonstop, and now that he has a lock on her location, he cannot afford to let this chance slip through his fingers. It will only be a matter of time before his target moves again. Mello is making this a competition against time.

He will go against all odds to get what he wants. To beat Near. To win and be number one in the eyes of all.

Even if that means involving himself in illegal activities- just like he is involving himself in this illegal rave now. Mello has noticed that his target tends to stray towards things like these. It unnerves him, confuses him, and throws him into a serious state of dubiousness. Why would one of L's –the L-'s most important contacts engage in pointless, unlawful things like raves and black markets? Has the contact no sense of self-preservation?

He knows that illegal activities are more or less a given in this contact's profession, but that reasoning doesn't sound too solid too him. L has promised that his criminal contacts would only have their records free of any charges while he is alive. Now, the deal is invalid, and Kira is still roaming freely. L's contacts may be free to do as they wish, but only fools would damn self-preservation for the heck of it.

Mello wants to call this contact an idiot, but that would be going against L's judgment. L is a genius, after all. L would have only wanted to work with people of similar intelligent quotients as he. No way in any lifetime would L ever settle for anything other than the best that can be offered.

So Mello plans to be the best of the best. Whatever it takes him.

Taking another glance at Matt's homemade locator-sonar-thing, he makes a mental reminder to thank Matt someday for helping him locate the freak. Mello feels anticipation. On the pitch black screen, a bright green speck begins to blink faster. Mello knows he is close to the contact then, and he cannot hold in his patience. Rudely, hastily, he pushes past the throng of people, heading closer and closer to-

Who, so it seems, happens to be directly before him that very moment.

His head snaps up so quickly, he gets a whiplash, but he is more stunned by the sight that greets him. There is a fair-haired girl grinning in a cat-like manner. Her arms are thrown up in the air, her body swaying in sync with the music, mouthing the lyrics with her eyes closed. Surrounding her is her own group of admirers- too shady looking for her, in Mello's opinion.

Mello wants to scream at this girl, because apparently she has no decency at all! He thinks he a whore for seducing these pathetic, sex-deprived imbeciles; even if her movements are more playful than raunchy, even if her grins are more excited than seductive. She looks to be fourteen or fifteen, like him, but that is totally beside the point.

Has the world come to this? Mello doesn't want to know.

Thoroughly agitated, he marches to her and grabs her by the arm tightly. He all but drags her towards the nearest exit. It seems too far away across the sea of dancing bodies. The girl doesn't yet struggle, and Mello just passes her reaction off as surprise. After all, it isn't everyday when some random stranger grabs you in public.

But this belief is thrown out the window when he finally notes the self-satisfied look in her eyes. Mello doesn't ask –the music is too loud- and she doesn't answer the look in his eyes. She decides against protesting verbally or physically, a fact that throws Mello off. He doesn't get the chance to think too much into it, though.

One of her admirers from earlier suddenly blocks his path, dumbly believing that such a man as himself can intimidate Mello so easily. The nitwit has his arms folded across his broad chest, and he looks down at Mello like he is the lowest form of trash there is. Mello grits his teeth. He doesn't have time for this idiocy!

"Hey. Where do you think you're taking her, Blondie?" the man sneers at him. Mello discredits him for coming up with such an unoriginal nickname.

Mello almost answers with a retort easily ten times ruder, but then, Miss Stupid Seductress replies for him, sighing in undisguised irritation. "Get out of the way, bubba. I don't need any help, and I don't want it either. I'm not an invalid, and to be honest, I find your attempt in 'defending my honor' really insulting."

She pulls her arm away from Mello's grasp, but -Mello notices this with a smirk- makes no move to leave his side. The girl keeps her gaze dead locked on the man. "I do whatever damn well I please, and I didn't come here to please you. Now, if you would step aside- he and I want to talk."

Well, at least she is finally acknowledging Mello. Sort of. Although Mello hardly enjoys being interrupted when he is about to speak, he can't bring himself to complain too much. She has already voiced her wish to speak with him this instant. And that is all he really cares about, as of that moment.

And if her snarky, witty reply is any indication, then she might not be as stupid as he first assumed her to be. He can already gather that she is a confident, cocky, quick-tongued sort- the most beneficial type of person that will suit his plans perfectly.

He and the girl squeeze past the man, and Mello doesn't miss the dirty glare shot right at him. He returns it with his own, but it is short-lived. The girl, now free from his hold, walks two paces ahead of him, takes the lead (Mello realizes this rather grudgingly), and expertly weaves them both through the crowd.

Mello catches a whiff of her scent, and is pleased that he does not smell any alcohol or drug or such on her. It is better for her to be sober when he negotiates. Her arms, neck and hands are coated with body glitter and sweat, which he can already tell must be from the heat and her dancing.

Once they exit the club, she keeps on walking. Mello is glad that she realizes that remaining near the perimeter of the condemned club isn't proper privacy. The girl doesn't yet spare a glance to check if he is still following her, but he supposes he shouldn't be so miffed. After all, he is the one who had approached her. She must know that he will follow her anywhere, as long as she co-operates. Or she must know something else.

She and he only stop in their tracks after walking down an entire block, deeper into the slums of New York. They stand under a single flickering street light, regularly casting shadows and darkness across their features. Mello's hand twitches, not at all missing the haughty look she sends him. She appraises him from down her nose and wears a cocky sort of smile not unlike the one Mello likes to wear.

After giving him a once over, she asks him, bluntly and tactlessly, "So who the hell are you supposed to be, and what do you want? You look a little too perfect and pretty to be in a rave, you know? Your garb's the worst too. People tend to stare when you stand out, and damn it, now I've been seen walking out with you." Her eyes narrow. "I don't like to be seen, so your excuse better be good."

Mello shakes his head impatiently. "Don't ever use 'pretty' or any relating word to describe me; it's bloody infuriating. But that's not why I'm here. Just tell me- are you Hex?" He fixes a curious stare to her. It is a wide eyed one that she does not hesitate to return. Mello has been through a lot all his life –death, pain, change, hurt- but he has somehow managed to retain an innocent gleam in his eyes. The girl in front of him however, seems to have lost that gleam eons ago. And she seems to revel in it.

She tilts her head to one side, wearing a cheeky, toothy grin. "You looked pretty sure of who I was when you grabbed me. What audacity, to even ask me that now!"

"Answer the question," Mello orders, voice low.

She ignores him, unimpressed by his attempt at intimidation. She begins bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly, like she has been anticipating meeting him for a while. If Mello doesn't know any better, he would've thought that she has been expecting him to find her, and that all that chase had been to make things more exciting. Winking, she asks him, "That depends. Do you want me to be?"

Mello's eyes narrow. "You areHex."

Lifting her chin up defiantly, she smirks. "Says you."

"Quit the crap," Mello speaks with malice lacing his tone. "I know you like playing games but this isn't funny. You either are, or you are. My sonar and locators have been programmed to find you, and only you, so you must be."

She rolls her eyes, unperturbed by him. "Geez, you need a life. Stalking me isn't exactly what anyone would call a great idea for fun. What're you here for anyway?" She places her hand on her cocked hip, looking at him expectantly, but says nothing else. Mello thinks this is as good as admitting that she is, in fact, Hex. Excellent.

Cryptically, Mello says, "I am in need of your services."

Hex looks affronted. "Do I look like a brothel owner to you? I don't provide any services."

Mello inwardly cringes. He cannot believe that she has interpreted his words as a request for a whore! Mello prays that she is just playing dumb. He is starting to have an extremely difficult time in believing that she is one of L's contacts at all. Finally finding his –extremely tight- voice, he hisses, "Look. You're the direct successor to both Aiber and Wedy, are you not?" The question is rhetorical. Mello is merely stating facts, and she knows it.

"Cut to the chase, Wammy kid," she says darkly, finally regarding him with suspicion. She quits playing dumb, her formerly light aura immediately replaced by one of unhidden mockery. "Tell me why exactly you're here. Tell me why I ought to care what I am or who you are. You've got two minutes, or else."

Well, what a bitch she's turning out to be.

Mello wastes no time in speaking, though. "Wedy's dead and so is…L," he admits his idol's defeat hesitantly. "I'm one of his potential successors. The rest are competing to be L too, but I know they can't win. With your help, I can. I've been searching for you for a little more than a month- I want you in on this with me. I want your skills. I want to defeat Kira."

All traces of the manic grin she has worn have completely vanished. She laughs emptily, shaking her head at him. "Do I look like I care, Wammy kid? Wedy's dead, I know. L's gone, so what? Life goes on. We're not obliged to finish whatever they've started. We're not them." She straightens. "If L couldn't defeat Kira, what makes you so sure that you could? That we could? You've yet to impress me."

"I just know," Mello hisses and sets his jaw, hating how poor his excuse sounds, even to him. "If we join forces, we could be just about unstoppable."

Hex raises an eyebrow at him. "I think you've forgotten. I'm a thief. A con-artist, not some detective. So why don't you go run off to your other little friends? I'm sure Near would help you, no problem."

He freezes, eyes widening slightly. Mello has absolutely no idea how she knows of Near's existence. There is no mention in her files about her being acquainted or ever knowing the sheep, and Mello knows that the Wammy's House inhabitants are kept anonymous to even L's contacts. Still, he cannot quell the raging jealousy, knowing that once more, Near has upstaged him. Otherwise, Hex would have heard of Mello, rather than just calling him 'Wammy kid'.

Biting his cheek, he says scathingly, "I came to you specifically for your specialties, not Near's. You and I, we'd be an excellent team." He is getting frustrated. "I don't need another detective, you get me? I want what you can offer me. I want a thief. I want a criminal."

"And I want a motorbike." She rolls her eyes. "You can't just get what you want, kid."

Mello resists the urge to bite his lip. She is being too difficult when Matt has told him that she would be eager to help. This is not good at all.

Stepping closer towards her, Mello wishes that he could see her more clearly. He wants to get a good look at her face, to read her expression and guess what she is really thinking, what she truly thinks about his proposal.

And it seems that she has read his mind, for she steps further away from him with a grin. Mello is getting a little desperate. His two minutes are up, and he has no idea what he should really expect from her now. Belatedly, he realizes that she needs more than just smooth talking to convince her.

"I could pay you," he starts. "Name your price."

She scoffs. "I hardly need your money… Are you actually trying to bribe me? I'm a con-artist, silly boy. Why don't you quit with this pointless chitchat and get straight to the point: why would a person like me be of value to you?"

"I want things to go just as planned," Mello tells. "And my plans involve a high-caliber thief. That's you. I'm running a high risk plan, action-packed with guns, blood and money." He mentions the last sentence casually, but he knows that if this doesn't capture her interest, then nothing will. "I'm talking about getting in the mafia."

"Are you now?" she coos, smirking, but even he can hear the hint of interest underlying in her tone. "I bet you don't know shit about what they're like. No, forget that. I bet your 'plans' are just half-sketched ideas." She peers at him intently. "But if I'm wrong, would you care to elaborate?"

Mello makes a mental reminder to never let her boss him around anymore than this once. The priority as of this second is to make his intentions sound thrilling, reasonable and convincing all at once. "As I've said, I want to beat Kira. I've realized that working to achieve this legally just can't be done. Law is too restricting, and I have never liked limitations."

"The mafia has power and influence; authority and control over so many things that can be utilized. They're in a whole other league of their own, and I need that. If I can obtain a firm control over their syndicate, Kira will never know what hit him," Mello declares. "But you must be still wondering where you come in."

She nods. He grins inwardly, rejoicing the fact that she is finally listening with rapt attention. Definitely, she is interested now. "I know what you're capable of," he says grimly. "As much as what you do goes against my values, it'd be foolish not to have you as my accomplice."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she sniffs. "But your plan sounds more like some sick quest for power. What's in it for me?"

Mello's lips twitch. He has her now. "I've read your files, Hex. I know you like control, influence… and I said power. When I have Kira dead, I'll be L, and you-"

"I prefer to exclude myself, whenever L is concerned."

"Fine," he says hurriedly, waving his hand to dismiss her words. "But you see it, don't you? As accomplices, we'd be virtually untouchable. I-We'll be Gods." He prays she does not notice his slip. "You probably know the world has no clue L's dead. When I have Kira gone, I'll take L's place, and we'll both be credited for bringing Kira down. They'll worship you… It's a win-win situation. "

"And all you need now is my agreement," she completes. She gives him a once over, gaze lingering on certain areas: his face, but mostly, his eyes. "You know, you're great at making bargains. You might not be a joke after all." Mello feels insulted, but not really. It seems as though she has meant it as a compliment.

She finally stands close enough for him to see without straining himself. Her hair is a shock of the palest shade of blonde, wild and untamed, like her eyes. Being a hot-blooded male, he notices quickly that she is, for lack of better word: cute. He can easily tell that in her years of adulthood, she will be very easy on the eyes.

Good, he thinks. If he has to spend years with her as an accomplice, he might as well enjoy looking at her.

She wears a confident grin, asking, "What's your name?" He takes this as her way of saying that she will work for… uh, he means, with him.

"Mello."

"Then," she takes his offered hand and shakes it firmly. "The name's Hex."

TBC

A/N: I'm trying something Semi-AU, if only to see how an added character could impact a story. Anyway, to clear out some confusion:

Mello's been out of Wammy's for about two months, meaning that this prologue has taken place sometime around late January the year after. He's fifteen, and he's travelled to New York to get help from one of the successors of L's contacts- who are mostly dead... or at least, Wedy is. At this point of time, Aiber is still alive.

Our chocoholic, Mello, will not yet be a badass-mafia-boss-with-almost-no-morals, since it's only been a few months after L's death. Mello will still keep his intense, temperamental and rash side, but any other drastic personality change will be OOC, and I intend to avoid that. Instead, I will have him slowly become the person we see after the canon time-skip.

This is my first attempt with having a canon/OC pairing. Maybe the OC has room for improvement, but consider that this is only the prologue. Characters aren't built in a snap, but my opinion, as the writer, is biased anyways.

It is your opinion that matters. So please, drop a review.