Summary: When Beyond Birthday was told he was having a prison transfer, he had every right to be suspicious. Kira was becoming a household name in Japan, and L was becoming desperate for a solution. How will the investigation progress with another person on board?

Disclaimer: Death Note belongs to Tsugami Ohba and Takeshi Obata, and Death Note Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Murder Casesbelongs to Nisio Isin. I own nothing but the plot.

Warnings: Spoilers for anyone who has never read The Los Angeles Murder Cases, you probably won't know who Beyond Birthday is either.

/AN: Well, I've been reading a lot of Death Note Fan fiction lately, which is unusual for me. I am aware that many people have used a similar concept before; I hope that my interpretation won't be labelled as copying. As always you are welcome to let me know of any mistakes. Wow this is becoming a bit of a lecture isn't it? Anyway, enjoy! /

The very moment that Beyond Birthday regained consciousness, he knew that he'd failed. L had won, and quite honestly it had hardly come as a shock or a surprise to him. After all, what were the chances of pulling the wool over the eyes of one of the most successful detectives in the world?

The prospect of losing had occurred to him more than once, almost frequently in fact. It was something that he didn't like to think about, which of course was only natural.

Each passing second had been an opportunity for both of them to progress, outwit and succeed victoriously against each other, however Beyond knew that without the murder case L would have had no intention or opportunity of competing against him. He was just one of his many successors, the insignificant Back Up that he had long forgotten and never met personally.

To him, Birthday was just a letter.

'He who moves first, wins.'

Unfortunately for BB, his own words had severely backfired on him, and honestly, he hadn't won anything.

He hadn't even succeeded in taking his own life, let alone beating L. He'd used that motto his entire life.

The only sincere encouragement he had ever received in his life was from himself. Many would think that if the raven lacked in such support, surely he would have no reason, no desire to set such demanding ambitions, to challenge his rival.

Fortunately for Beyond, it had only pushed him further, and in that sense he had succeeded in something.

He was awake, yet still drifting in the shallow waters of slumber. It was during moments like these that BB was often at risk from his own thoughts.

When he was tired, his conscience was brutally honest, and sometimes... it could really mess with his head.

'You're pathetic,' a familiar voice in his head whispered with brutality, 'You failed again didn't you? You've heard what they say... if it happens once; it's more likely to happen again.'

'It won't.'

'Says who?'

'Me.'

It was at that moment, that the voices in Beyond's head retreated into submission.

Since then, they hadn't returned, not once.

The feeling was wonderful.

It was an early Sunday morning in Los Angeles and Beyond Birthday couldn't find a single morsel of energy to pry himself from bed.

Bed.

The notorious piece of furniture was most definitely not a bed. Beds were comfortable. This is what he imagined it would feel like should he chose to sleep on the concrete floor with a thin blanket and a flat pillow. His back ached, his feet were ice cold, and the prospect of eating another cold meal didn't seem entirely plausible.

This was his current life, trapped between four dull walls, the door always latched shut and the only window was too high to reach.

For a majority of his days B would perch on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees and his spine curved into a comfortable slouch, thumb in his mouth and eyes focused on that same spot on the wall while he listened to the guards patrol the hallway. He couldn't ignore the heavy bunch of keys rattling loudly with each step.

It was more than just irritating.

Sometime in the afternoon, someone would fetch him for his shower while the other inmates were absent from the corridors. When his time was up, he'd go back, to the same four walls.

Although hardly anyone had seen him accept the police officers, the secrecy of the inmate in cell 104 was the subject of much conversation and countless rumours.

There were endless theories about him. Some said he was a celebrity, while others labelled him a psychopath, stating that the reason he was isolated, was because he was a danger to the staff and other prisoners.

They called him a lunatic.

Beyond considered himself to be many things, sick, twisted, dark, but a lunatic was not part of his self assessment. He was definitely NOT a lunatic. People assumed that because he had taken lives, he had to be ill in the head, or worse, mad.

It couldn't have been further from the truth.

"Did you hear?"

"Yeah... The rapist in 83 wasn't it?"

"They say Kira did it..."

"Maybe if we're lucky, he'll take this guy off our hands too..."

Tangled in a mass of sheets, Beyond could hear the rattle of keys and the unmistakable click of the latch.

Something was up.

He was never called for this early, ever.

The door groaned on its hinges and two men in uniform entered, armed with two ominous looking guns and pair of silver handcuffs.

"This certainly is a surprise," the raven yawned, his words dripping with sarcasm, "I didn't think I was allowed visitors. Do make yourselves comfortable..."

"Get up, now."

Untangling his limbs one by one B ran a hand through his severely tousled black hair and stood, slipping his bare feet into a pair of lace less white shoes.

"Where are your laces?" The tallest of the two demanded, eyeing the raven sternly with a pair of piercing green eyes.

"I'm not allowed any." He answered simply, averting his gaze to the open door. "Special occasion?"

"You're being transferred."

'A transfer?' He thought. 'But for what purpose?'

"Now that is a shame. I made such good friends here too..."

"Hands behind your back."

Once again, Beyond found himself subjected to the uncomfortable sensation of handcuffs, much too tight for his liking as they always were, digging into his skinny wrists.

For the first time he finally set eyes on the other inmates during his parting stroll down the long corridor. He could feel their eyes upon him, their long, curious gazes lingering on his pale, scarred figure, feet lazily scuffing the floor.

He was no celebrity.

He was... different, and decided to return those gazes with an eerie, memorable smile.

"Walk properly."

"I am."

"Straight."

"If I do that I might possibly break in half. Wouldn't want to make a mess now would I?"

He could hear the whispers.

"He's British... No wonder they locked him up..."

"Must be a bit feisty, hasn't even got laces in his shoes..."

"Maybe Kira will have him."

"Kira?" Beyond asked curiously, giving one man a long, bug eyed stare.

"Never you mind," the guard said, guiding the raven through the large door and securely locking it behind him. There were three officers waiting patiently, all heavily armed and ready to take Beyond outside, for his brief taste of freedom.

"You'll go with them now."

"So soon? We were getting along so nicely. Well, it was nice to meet you Brian and Michael, have a good day."

As Beyond began to disappear from sight, Michael gave his colleague a puzzled stare.

"Did we tell him our names?"