Disclaimer: Neither of us own Death Note!

Death Note belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata

A/N from lorraine24:

Greetings all! I'm so happy to be working on this story with shadowtale! I adore writing for L ;and Shadowtale has created a couple of awesome OC's to invade his world! I just know this story is going to be a blast to write! I hope everyone enjoys!

A/N from shadowtale:

Welcome and thanks for taking a chance on our new Death Note collab! I hope you'll find it exciting, hilarious...and most of all, fun. I felt L needed a new challenge not only for his sharp mind, but also for those hidden away emotions of his. Let's see how he handles her...enjoy!

Model Mangler.
Chapter 1.

It was the perfect day to hand pick a new victim. The early showers of April left the local teenagers with little choice as to how to spend their short weekends of leisure. With little in the area to serve as entertainment, the only real place for them to go was the two story mall on the west side of town.

The smaller cities were always the most challenging. The communities were normally tight knit. Everyone knew each other, and the few strangers that passed through stuck out like a sore thumb. The lone traveler nodded at each curious eye he passed as he strolled through the mall way. His smile was pleasant, but not because he was trying to be friendly.

His appearance was like that of a door-to-door salesman; dressed in a bland brown business suit that looked like it had been pulled from the back self of a thrift store. He could hardly be considered a corporate big-wig with such a suit. It was the way he carried himself that made him appear professional and important. He was well groomed and had a confident posture. There was no sign of a five o'clock shadow and not a hair on his copper brown head was out of place.

His demeanor alone camouflaged what he truly was. He had managed to evade every detective on the North American continent that had tried to track him down. Every strike was completely random, with great distances between them. His travels had taken him all across the States. He even managed a few pit stops in Canada. Every so often, he toyed around with the idea of hitting Mexico.

Fortunately for the young women of Mexico; the serial killer, known as the 'Model Mangler', didn't speak a word of Spanish. Torturing wasn't any fun if there was no way of understanding what they were saying in their tearful pleas. He couldn't chance hiring a translator… unless he got lucky and stumbled upon a bilingual beauty. He could keep her as a pet and force her to translate. She could watch the other women slowly die and know that she would meet the same fate once he was ready to leave Mexico. The smallest of laughs suddenly escaped him as he walked.

His new fantasy was quickly forced to the side when he caught sight of his hunting ground. A small stage with a walkway was nestled in between the hallway of two boutiques. He had seen the Spring fashion show advertised in a local flier that had been on the desk in his current hotel room. The welcome folders and brochures that could be found in most hotel rooms were always something he paid close attention to. They gave him a solid destination. He seldom had to worry about wandering around; looking like a lost dog.

After a short wait, the annoying noise that most of his victims referred to as 'music' started blaring through the speakers. The repetitive beats and the high pitch girlie voice that accompanied them echoed through his ears like the annoying buzz of a house fly. It was almost enough to make him lose focus. He tuned it out the best he could as he watched each girl strut down the walkway.

None of the models were professionals; just a bunch of local teenagers who had the delusional idea that they were somehow beautiful. It almost made him start laughing again. None of his victims were beautiful until they were bleeding. None of them could truly say they were worth something until that priceless look of fear engulfed their eyes. Without his own personal makeover, no female could ever truly have the right to claim that it was their beauty that drove their own arrogance- and not their own shallow stupidity. Females were hideous creatures— every last one of them. They disgusted him even more than the males. Humans were all together hideous. Their ugliness knew no race, gender or culture. It plagued the entire species.

The individuals he preyed upon were worth about as much to him as the bird shit that always seemed to target his windshield during the warm season. It wasn't their false beauty that he wanted. No. What he needed from them was their pain— their fear. It was his favorite drug, though the effects wore off far too quickly.

In a crowd of a little less than two dozen, he watched each girl with a lion's eye. The attire they displayed was almost as tacky as the music. He had seen his late grandmother dress more fashionably. He had almost decided to target the girl wearing the pink and white polka dots. 'Polka dots… who the hell wears polka dots? That outfit alone should be her death warrant. She looks too timid though.'

Each young girl pranced around stage with fake smiles plastered on their faces. It was like a bunny parade. He was ready to settle for the girl wearing the polka dots, though she didn't seem to fit the personality he was looking for. The small town girls were turning out to be a disappointment.

The man was starting to get bored. He almost lost interest all together and started laying out more details of his Spanish translator fantasy. And then… he saw her. Her orange and white spring dress was just as hideous as the others. She wasn't as boney as some of the other girls, but she wasn't overweight either. He could see that she was active just by looking at her toned calves. Her blonde hair was pulled up into bun and accented with chopstick accessories.

Her blue violet eyes gleamed with what appeared to be an arrogant pride. Her walk was smooth and graceful. Her expression suggested that she was trying to go for a slight hint of seduction. In his opinion, her overall appearance didn't differ too much from the other models; but unlike the other girls, she was confident, perhaps… a little too confident. As the man continued to study her, he swore he could see a touch of anger or annoyance in her eyes. It was odd.

'She's so arrogant; she's bored with the whole thing. She sees no point in even being here because the other girls are below her in her eyes. She's perfect! She'll be so much fun to break!' He rubbed his thumb against his middle and index finger as he thought. It wasn't the physical features that he looked for in a victim at all; but rather demeanor and attitude.

He couldn't help but overhear a loudmouth teenager shout out of the crowd. "Whooooo hooooo! That's my girlfriend up there! She knows she's the shit! She's never not won a trophy for the shows that have them judges in em'!"

The boy's heavy southern accent and use of grammar made the man's head turn. 'Never not? Them judges?' His attention was focused on a young slender male, about 5'11" in height. He had dark shaggy hair and green eyes that stared at the blonde on stage with adoring eyes. He was dressed in tight straight-legged jeans and a grey flannel. Typical redneck attire, but this boy was at least neat about it. No wrinkles. The jeans actually looked like they had been pressed. The only other thing that really stood out about him was the annoying smile on his face. The man almost instantly wanted to slice it off with a blade.

The man cut his eyes back to the girl on stage. 'That settles it. She's the one. And she's here with her redneck boyfriend? This will be more than fun. Snatching her will be almost as exhilarating as looking into those over confident and cocky eyes as I peel the top three layers of her skin back. I normally start at the wrists, but I think I'll start somewhere on the chest for this one— or maybe just above the navel. That way, she can look down and see what I'm doing to her.'

Once again, he almost laughed out loud. 'Who's going to save you, little girl? Your illiterate and uneducated boyfriend? The Barney Fifes' of your little hole in the ground police department? The incompetent FBI that remain at least 20 steps behind me, no matter how much overtime they put in? The pillars of justice that have no idea I'm even here?'

His own over confident thoughts were on such a roll, he almost felt himself getting aroused. 'No. No one can save you from the Boogey Man. Justice is a joke, and I'm laughing so hard at it; I could explode at any moment.'

His friendly smile had turned into a slight smirk, but he maintained his calm demeanor. 'No one is capable of stopping me! No one can outwit me! Let them keep trying! Let them feel defeat at the hands of the greatest criminal mind to ever exist in this rotten word! Who can possibly stop me other than God himself?'

He had to choke back on a laugh at his last thought; silently issuing a challenge to any higher power who wanted to listen. 'Screw theology! If humans were created in His form, then He, Himself, can't possibly be all that bright! Not even God can stop me! Send me your best! Give me some sort of challenge, for Christ's sake!' The man narrowed his eyes and waited patiently for the last set of attire to be displayed. Only then, could he make his move. He studied his surroundings and saw nothing put incompetent bystanders. 'No one…' He repeated it to himself several times. 'No one…'

"I'm not seeing anything suspicious so far, but then again, only a few of the girls who signed up for this fit the profile of his preferred victims." Standing on the furthest side of the stage was a man dressed in a half unbuttoned red shirt with a fashionable black jacket and matching pants. His age looked around thirtyish. There was a little trace of stubble on his face, and his blonde hair was worn in a relaxed style.

He was the director of the show, yet he talked through his headset as if he were an undercover cop. Though in truth, he was neither of the above; his true purpose was to catch a killer. The entire show had been set up in hopes of luring the 'Model Mangler' out of hiding.

On the receiving end of his headset was the man he worked for— the brains behind the operation. He could hear a slight grown coming from his boss. "At the very least, Aiber; you could have selected an album that doesn't drill through my nerves." His boss apparently wasn't fond of the loud dance music that was blaring from the speaker that sat just behind Aiber.

Aiber smiled slyly— his eyes never resting as they darted back and forth from the stage to the audience. "Aww. You don't actually mean that. I bet you're dancing to it right now. You're probably a regular twinkle toes."

There was a slight pause. "Perhaps I should be the one on stage rather than Wedy."

The mental image of his boss parading down the catwalk in a brightly colored spring dress and moving to the beat almost made him lose his professional composure. "That'd attract one hell of a crowd. Speaking of Wedy, she told me to inform you that she hates you and will never work for you again after this."

"I see. As always, I will look forward to working with her in the future." Several miles away, a young man with wild black hair sat crouched in front of several monitors. He wasn't dancing, as Aiber had teasingly suggested. Instead, the world's greatest detective was delicately holding a fork with a bite of shortcake up in the air— studying it as if it were a newly discovered piece of evidence. Slowly, he guided the fork to his opened mouth — like a mother playing 'food airplane' with a toddler.

L was used to hearing Wedy complain about some of the undercover work he asked her to do. If it didn't involve challenging her master thievery skills, she hated it. Regardless of how many times she told him that she was done working for him, however; it was always little more than talk. Her loyalty would always lie with L. L was just as much of an asset to Wedy as she was to L. The same could be said for Aiber. The thief, the con-artist and the detective— they were an oddly matched trio, yet a very effective team.

L closed his mouth around his bite of cake and made a very faint moan of pleasure. Aiber would have never picked up the sound— with or without the loud music. With a mouth now full of cake, L studied the monitors in front of him. He had infiltrated the malls security cameras, so he could see the stage and the audience from several different angles. "Mmm… It's actually more convenient that the other participants don't match the profile. That assures us that he will choose Wedy. Wedy is the only one who can do this without falling into a state of panic. You must make sure he gets her into his vehicle."

With the help of Wedy and Aiber, L had been able to figure out the general pattern of the killer's movements. To the police and FBI, the Model Mangler had no pattern. He struck in completely random places all across the states at random times. He picked up a victim in whatever town he happened to be in when the urge hit him. Rather than using the actual time and locations to establish a pattern, L had focused more on the carved patterns that had been found on the last 7 bodies.

The bodies were normally so mangled; it seemed the marks were just as random as the locations. One of the corpses had been skinned almost completely. It was that one that had first suggested the killer was starting to leave clues— more than likely because he didn't feel like he was being challenged. The Model Mangler needed his adrenaline rushes. Most serial killers did. It was the rush that the adrenaline created that gave them a temporary feeling of euphoria. It was like a drug. Just like any drug, however; that adrenaline never lasted long. It had to be re-administered again and again.

That first clue— the one found on the victim he had skinned alive— was found carved in a lower leg bone. The nerves and muscles had been sliced away from it, leaving it fully exposed. The heavy blood clotting had suggested the victim had still been alive for the process. The scene was by far the most disturbing in the case. The small chisels that circled the bone were almost identical to the pin locations where the other bodies had been found.

It suggested that the killer wasn't as random as the police had originally thought. The small clues that the killer left behind were presented differently on each body. Only the keenest of eyes could have spotted them. The significant cuts had to be filtered from those that were inflicted in areas which would cause the most pain; as well as the ones that were created in the climax of the killer's rage. The bodies alone served as L's puzzle pieces.

The only downside of it was the fact that crime scene photos alone weren't always enough to spot the small details. For three of the victims, he had no other choice but to pose as a representative of one of his other aliases so that he could examine the bodies in person. L hated posing as an investigator. It forced him to make himself look halfway presentable so that he wouldn't raise any suspicion. He didn't find the smell of death to be very pleasant either.

It had been an interesting challenge, yet it wasn't one that proved impossible for L. It was only a matter of time before he had found his suspect. Wedy and Aiber were all he needed to send ahead of the killer to plant the necessary traps. The small town fashion show that seemed to display only the loudest and gaudiest of Spring outfits was little more than a ploy to lure the killer to his next victim.

If everything went according to plan, Wedy would be the next to get abducted. The Model Mangler often posed as a talent scout, looking for fresh new faces. Once he had a girl's interest, he would find ways to lure her to his vehicle— be it by telling her he left his business cards there or convincing her to have coffee for a full interview. If they didn't fall for his bluff, he'd simply follow the one he wanted out to her car and abducted her from behind.

There were a total of 18 teens and young women participating in the show. Wedy was to be number 15 in the queue line. L pulled his bottom lip down towards his chin with his thumb and index finger as he watched the monitors. He'd let go so that it would land over his top lip before pulling it down again. He looked bored out of his mind.

His suspect hadn't moved; nor had he made any expression that indicated he was interested in what he was seeing. L had expected this much. The first victims had been known for being shy and timid; but as the Model Mangler killed more and more, he began targeting the more feisty personalities.

L didn't stop playing with his bottom lip until model number 8 walked down the walkway. His eyes moved over to the man in the audience. The model had his full attention, until… a young man—maybe a teenager— shouted out of the crowd. The suspect's attention slowly shifted over to the voice in the crowd; as did L's. 'The model's… boyfriend. Something seems a little off about him. His accent seems forced to me.'

L noticed his suspect turn his attention back to the stage. The dead stare he gave the girl alerted L that he had found his prey. "He has his potential victim in sight, Aiber. This is a little unexpected, but it shouldn't make things difficult."

"If he already has his eyes set on number eight, then Wedy will be relieved she won't have to model."

"Please, don't misunderstand me. Just because we will have to resort to Plan B doesn't mean Wedy is free of her duty."

"But there really isn't any point in…"

"You're right. There is no point other than for my own personal amusement. Do not update her on the situation until she has walked the stage."

Aiber flashed his celebrity grin. "You're a dirty, dirty boy." There was no answer on the other end of the receiver. L certainly wasn't admitting it, but he wasn't denying it either.

When Wedy's turn finally came, she stomped down the stage with the stone face of a true model. She wore a light blue spring dress with a white hat. The hat came complete with a long baby blue ribbon wrapped around it. It was a far cry from what Wedy would normally wear. Aiber chuckled at the way she walked. It was almost like a military march. He could see her hands fighting not to ball up into fists. "Oooo, someone isn't happy. It would be me that has to inform her she walked up there for nothing."

L ran his thumbnail lightly across his bottom lip. "I'm sure you can handle a slap across the face. You can't possibly tell me you're not more than familiar with those."

"There's no need to get personal. I'm taking this hit for you— just so you know." Aiber glanced at the man they had been watching. "He looks like he's just as interested in Wedy as the other girl. How do we know which one he'll decide on?"

L had gone back to nibbling on his piece of cake. His words were muffled with food. "He'll try to approach model number 8 first. The presence of her boyfriend presents more of a challenge, and it's obvious from his previous two abductions he's looking for a way to make things more difficult for himself. It adds to the thrill of the chase. Proceed with Plan B as soon as number 18 has finished her walk."

"Got it."

As soon as the last model had left the stage and the music stopped, L watched the suspect make his way to the side of the stage area. Model number 8's boyfriend was trailing close behind, though he didn't appear to be following the man. L studied the boyfriend more closely now that he wasn't surrounded by a crowd of people.

The boy's expression look fully focused— or fully on guard. He appeared to be scanning the area for more than just his girlfriend. His eyes were scanning every person that had lingered around the stage. Was he looking for someone else? Was he simply a paranoid individual? 'Something seems off— something about that teenager. It could be nothing though. Surely he couldn't be another suspect? No. Perhaps I should… yes— just to be safe.'

Normally, L would have eagerly greeted unexpected suspicious activity. It always made the game more fun. This time, however, he decided he couldn't afford the possibility of losing complete control if things got out of hand. A crowded mall was not the place to play games— or at the very least, games that were actually interesting.

"Aiber, I need you to cancel Plan B. Wedy will be happy to know her efforts were not wasted. Please make sure the suspect takes Wedy and not number 8. Also, I'll need you to plant a tracking device on number 8 just in case something goes wrong and he grabs the wrong girl. I'd also like to profile the boyfriend to make sure I'm not missing the possibility of another suspect. Once our killer has lured Wedy into his vehicle, you may leave the rest to me."

"Sure, I can do that. Why the sudden change of plans all of a sudden? Were you starting to feel guilty about making Wedy model? You know, I think you just saved me that slap in the face."

"This is very serious, Aiber. Make sure that Wedy stays the main target, even if you have to distract model 8. The Model Mangler will no doubt try and pose as a model agent. Though his con artist skills are novice compared to yours, they're effective enough to fool a naïve young girl. Find number 8 before he does."

"A naïve young girl… number 8 didn't come off as naïve at all from what I saw. Sometimes I wonder if that's how you view all females."

L was starting on another piece of cake. Instead of slicing it with a fork, he brought his plate up to his face and started licking the icing off of it. "Not females. Try the majority of humanity." It almost sounded like he was holding his tongue while he was speaking.

"As a professional con man, I can see the truth in that." Aiber kept his voice to a whisper. "I'd love to chat some more, but the suspect is only a few feet away from 8. Wish me luck."

"Ga-uk." L was obviously still licking icing off of his cake. Aiber assumed he was just getting a bad signal.

Aiber quickly made his way to model number 8. Her eyes were darting through the crowd as though she were looking for someone— more than likely her boyfriend. He hurried his pace when he saw the suspect had already approached her. 'Shit! He doesn't waste any time!'

"Excuse me, Miss. I hate to bother you, but I just had to tell you how great you were up there. You held the audience's attention the whole time you were up there—the walk, the expression… the feel. I don't suppose you've ever considered a side career in modeling, have you?" The Model Mangler wore his most inviting smile as he eyed the blonde girl in front of him.

A set of blue-violet eyes studied him for a moment before returning the smile. "Well… to be honest, the thought has never occurred to me. You really think I could do it for a living?" Her accent was almost as bad as her boyfriend's.

He had to fight a smirk. She was going to fall for his bluff. He could feel his adrenaline start to rush when the boyfriend suddenly appeared beside her and gave her a bear hug. "Damn, baby girl! You're the finest thing in this here county!" Not even the boy's annoying slang and bad grammar could spoil the killer's mood —though the stupid smile the teenager was still wearing slightly threatened it.

His future victim kissed her boyfriend on the cheek and nodded her head in his direction. "This man here says I'd be a great professional model! Can you believe that?"

Her boyfriend darted a quick look in the man's direction before returning to his attention back to his girlfriend. "Is that right? Well, I'll be damned!" He looked back over at the man and narrowed his eyes. "Does that mean she has to pose for magazines? Cuz I don't want her in them smut zines— the ones where they don't have nothing on. You can just forget it if that's what you're trying to pull. My girl ain't like that!"

"No, I promise you that isn't…"

"He's not that sort of model agent." All three of them were surprised to see a tall blonde man had suddenly stepped into the conversation. It was Aiber, AKA the director and coordinator of the Spring show. "If he was, then he wouldn't be allowed to survey here." He cut a suspicious eye toward the 'model agent'. Should I assume you're off the clock? I don't recall seeing you sign in at the agent table."

"…I'm… off the clock. I just happened to be here at the mall today." The man could feel himself starting to get nervous.

"Well, I need Miss Durling to sign a few parting waivers, so I'm afraid I'll have to cut this short. I can't allow her to leave with someone who hasn't had his credentials checked as long as she's still on my contract."

The man looked annoyed. Everything had been going so well up until that point. He could have lured both the girl and the boy out to his car for a lunch to discuss a future in modeling. He had a syringe full of tranquilizer to subdue the boy; and the girl's strength was more than likely laughable, just as the other's had been. His first chance to score a couple was leaving almost as fast as it had presented itself. He stayed calm. "I'm a legit agent, thank you. In fact, I'll go get my business cards out of my van while she signs her waiver. I'll even sign in at your agent table."

Aiber took that as the signal that the man was trying to get away. 'Good. As long as I keep these two occupied, he'll turn his attention to Wedy.' Aiber smiled a cool and collected smile. "You do that then. It shouldn't take her long to sign her release forms."

The girl's boyfriend appeared confused. "Release forms? She ain't being release from no hospital." It almost sounded like he was stalling.

Aiber blinked his eyes in an unnatural pattern; trying to shake away the sound of teen's stupidity. "It's a legal document that releases her from some of the legal obligations on her entry form. It'll only take a minute. Please, the two of you come with me, if you will."

The man who killed for a rush balled one of his fists as the group split up. 'Damn it! What rotten fucking luck! I could have had a couple—a couple! I guess I'll just have to find the other one.'

The young couple seemed a little reluctant to let the model agent go, but they followed Aiber regardless. Aiber couldn't help but notice the two taking turns looking back. He suddenly heard L through his ear piece. "Our suspect has located Wedy. He's about to approach her now. I'm starting to suspect there's more to this young couple than they're letting on. Their behavior (as well as their forced accents) is suspicious. Please make sure and keep them distracted."

Aiber couldn't answer of course. He gave a quick but stern nod, knowing L could see him through the security cameras. He had heard the conversation between Aiber and the others. 'As I thought, the boyfriend isn't a suspect. I have the right one.'

L had licked all of the icing off of his cake. He couldn't help but feel curious about the young couple. Was it likely they were also following the Model Mangler? 'No. The chance of that is only 3% at best. No one (aside from myself) has been able to track his movements. This couple would have to be working for someone who's just as capable as me. The thought of someone being even close to my level is just ridiculous. No. I should probably discard the idea all together.'

L indulged in the rest of his cake as he thought. 'On the other hand… if they're on the same level as an average ranked child at Wammy House, then it shouldn't be that difficult to imagine. They must be mentally exhausted, if that's the case— to have come this far. Let's make it 7%. Either way, I'm still claiming this victory. I'll apprehend the killer and uncover one of his bolt holes in the process. If I can find one, then I'll have the key to uncover them all. All he needs to do is lead me there.'

"Let's see. I know I put those papers here somewhere. I had the clipboard right here. Here's the form for a store credit card, but where's…" Aiber intentionally trailed off as he pretended like he couldn't find the release papers. He was relieved the store responsible for the show's outfits had left their own fliers and forms all over the table. It actually gave him something to search through.

"Hey. I hate to interrupt, but it looks like that agent is trying to walk off with another one of your models. Has she signed her release form?" The girl said it sarcastically, yet at the same time— suspiciously.

"She's already signed hers. She's free to go." Aiber glanced in Wedy's direction. Sure enough, the 'model agent' was now talking to Wedy. "Hmm. I don't know where that clipboard got off to. That's no problem. I have some extra forms in my briefcase." Aiber retrieved his briefcase from behind the table and started shuffling through it absentmindedly. At that point, the couple started getting fidgety. Both of them seemed eager to go, and they couldn't stop watching the 'agent'.

Aiber finally presented the papers. All the while, he was looking out the corner of his eye as Wedy and the suspect began to head towards the mall exit. "Here we are. If you'll just quickly read over this and sign here, here and here; I can turn you loose with your store gift certificate that was promised."

Aiber strategically handed Miss Durling a pen that was almost out of ink. The very thing that had earlier annoyed him enough to scribble a hole through the paper he had been writing on was now serving as his good luck charm. She scowled as she tried to get the pen to work. "This pen isn't working. Please tell me you have another one. I'm sort of in a hurry."

"Sure." Aiber noted something to himself as he reached into his brief case for another pen. 'Her accent isn't as strong when she's annoyed. In fact, it almo st sounds like a touch of another accent. Odd…'

Aiber's thoughts were suddenly interrupted. "We're losing him! They're out the door!" Aiber turned around to see the boyfriend bolting off. '… and his southern accent is completely gone now.'

Miss Durling jerked the pen out of Aiber's hand and scribbled a half signature on the required lines. She flashed a forced grin as she shoved the clipboard and pen back into Aiber's chest. Aiber could hear L talking through the earpiece again. "This isn't good."

The girl had already hurried off to catch up with her boyfriend. Aiber was starting to stress. "No shit, Sherlock! This isn't good! I haven't planted the tracking device on the girl yet, and she and her southern —British… (whatever he is) boyfriend are going to scare this guy off!"

"Then I suppose you know what you need to do?" L had finished his cake. He was twirling his fork around in the middle of his empty plate. He didn't appear to be too concerned with what was going on.

Aiber started to run after them. Though the boy was already in the parking lot, he managed to catch up to the girl. He ran up behind her and grabbed her shoulder. "Wait a minute!"

In response the girl bolted around and slapped him across the face. "What in bloody hell do you think you're doing? Don't touch me!" There was no question about it. She was British. Her southern accent had vanished.

Aiber rubbed his cheek. "I'm sorry, but you forgot your gift certificate and you weren't responding to my calls. You didn't have to slap me for trying to give you $75 worth of free clothes."

L couldn't help but comment. "It appears you weren't able to avoid your slap in the face after all."

Aiber wanted to tell his boss to go straight to hell, but he managed to bite his lip. He held the gift certificate up and waved it at her sarcastically. She quickly snatched it out of his hand and started off towards the exit again. Aiber couldn't help but feel a little bitter. 'What an ungrateful bitch!'

As if she had read his thoughts, Miss Durling—model number 8— suddenly stopped in her tracks and reluctantly turned back around to face Aiber. "Thank you! I'm sorry! Have a nice day!" Her expression made her look as though she were annoyed with the fact that she couldn't ignore her manners. Before Aiber could reply, she was already running again.

Knowing the original plan was slowly being destroyed, Aiber followed the girl outside to the parking lot. "I'm waiting on some sort of new order, boss! Help me out here!"

L didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned his attention to the monitors that showed the parking lot and stretched his arms out. L had been kind enough to give the mall a set of security cameras in the parking lot. He found the monitor that displayed Wedy and the Model Mangler. They were still walking to the car. Neither of the teens were anywhere in sight. L deduced they were hiding behind the other vehicles. Sure enough, when L's eyes moved toward the monitor that showed the parking area at a different angle, he could see Miss Durling's boyfriend hiding behind a black Sedan.

L finally decided to answer Aiber. "The probability of this getting ugly is 96%. For now, I'd like you to act as a spectator. Let's see what these two have planned. You're armed, should you need to intervene."

Aiber watched nervously as Wedy and the killer approached his van. The man opened the door in the back and pulled out a brief case. He wasn't in too big of a hurry to give away his true intentions. He was having too much fun leading her on. He opened the briefcase and pulled out a fake portfolio to show her. It wasn't until Wedy was flipping through the pages that the Model Mangler made his move.

He reached under the other papers in his brief case and removed a 42 caliber pistol. While Wedy was still looking down at the portfolio, he knocked her in the back of the head with it and shoved her into the van. It seemed a little out of place to use a gun as an object to knock someone in the head with. He could have just pointed the gun at her and threatened to shoot her if she didn't get into the van; but the Model Mangler liked inflicting pain. A blow to the head was more his style. The gun itself was only there for an emergency.

Apparently, this would turn out to be just such an emergency. As he closed the van door, he heard his challenge. "Freeze!" It was the voice of the boyfriend. He had bolted up from behind his hiding place— armed and aiming. The Model Mangler quickly spun around and started firing— not even clearly aware of where his target was.

The teenager wasted no time ducking back behind the car. He was only able to get one shot off in the process. It hit the top part of the man's van. Hearing the gunfire, the pedestrians in the parking lot started panicking. Some were screaming and running for the mall entrance. Some were falling to the ground or hiding behind parked cars to avoid the crossfire. The scene was indeed turning very ugly.

The suspect was soon out of ammo. He heard a female voice coming from another side of the parking lot. "Drop you weapon!"It was classic police dialog—'Freeze!'… 'Drop your weapon!' He didn't have time to reflect on the cheesiness of their words. The young redneck couple had been a set up, and he knew he had to get out of there.

He managed to avoid two shots and made it to the driver's side— throwing himself in and closing the door. As he cranked the car, a bullet suddenly blasted through his window; just barely skimming his forehead before exiting the passenger window. The impact hadn't been enough to shatter the passenger window, but the driver's side window was now all over the killer's lap.

He floored the accelerator, causing the wheels to spin. The Model Mangler was going to make his escape with Wedy. Aiber was relieved that the original goal was about to be met. That relief was very short lived. Miss Durling had ran out into the open, shooting the killer's back tires out in the process. The killer wasn't going anywhere. L's plan had been ruined. All Aiber could do now was make sure Wedy got out of the situation unharmed.

Aiber removed his gun from the concealed holster around his right leg and moved toward the van. The couple was also moving slowly toward the van. They were too focused on the van to even notice Aiber slowly creeping up between each row of cars.

"Don't stand out in the open. Remember he's armed and could be reloading his ammunition inside." Aiber's voice startled the couple. They bolted around to see Aiber not only holding a gun, but also flashing his favorite fake police badge.

"The model director is working undercover as well? I would have never guessed." The boy shrugged slightly before turning his full attention back to the van. L started speaking through Aiber's headset again. He was trying to give Aiber the best plan to approach the vehicle, while using the two unknown teens to his advantage. Unfortunately, L had only spoke three sentences before the door at the back of the van suddenly burst open.

Using Wedy as a human shield, the man got out of the van and held a switch blade to Wedy's throat. "She'll die right here unless you drop your weapons and supply me with a new vehicle!" Wedy was still too dazed from the hit on the head to have any sort of reaction.

The three on the other end of the playing field hesitated. The 'redneck' with the pressed jeans and British accent started to lower his gun first. A hostage situation should have been expected, but it still managed to surprise all three of them none the less.

On the other side of the monitors sat a motionless L. Save for one eye twitch, he could have passed as a statue. He didn't like seeing Wedy in her current situation. Though he'd never admit it out loud, L had grown somewhat attached to both Wedy and Aiber. They were, after all, the closest things to friends he had.

His dark round eyes stared unnervingly at the screen. It was finally starting to sink in that he had deliberately put his colleague in danger for the sake of uncovering information. L alone was responsible. He had wanted her to walk into the killer's trap— he'd given her the order. Without looking away from the screen, L reached over and pressed a button to speak.

A/N from Lorraine24:
I'm sort of mean to end it with such a cliffhanger. Am I not? LOL! I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter! Thank you so much for reading!