Gospel for the Wicked - a different Death Note fiction

Prologue - 1 PM

One of the busiest cities in the world is slowly waking up. It's a beautiful morning in early spring and the sun is about to rise. Soon, cars will be blocking the streets, people will be rushing on the sidewalks, and the general murmur will cover the sound of hell's bells.

~*~

A flight from Milan, Italy landed in Tokyo, Japan. The time was 1 pm. The sun was shining in a beautiful early spring day. Cherry trees were just about to bloom. The sky was clear. The scent of freshly grounded coffee, newly printed books and latex filled the air. A few steps away, chocolate and fresh-baked bread.

A group of four had just arrived to their new home. The youngest and definitely the center of everyone's attention was a fourteen-year-old teenager rocking a pair of loosely laced boots, ripped, washed-out skinny jeans, a loose, white, sleeveless T-shirt and a black leather jacket carelessly thrown over her shoulders. Her left wrist was dressed in several bracelets of black leather with silver beads and charms. A soft clinking of bells followed her every move. The upper sections of her hair were thrown into a messy half-bun, leaving a few bangs to frame her round sunglasses. Her skinny figure was starting to show signs of normal development, especially around the chest.

The father walked a step behind her. He was dominating the group with his tall stature and well-built body. Pitch black hair was tied back into a sleek ponytail. His beard has been recently shaved. His white shirt was contrasting with a dark brown suit jacket and black dress pants. Shiny shoes reflected the sunlight. Black eyes stayed on his daughter at all times. As soon as he stopped, his wife and daughter turned to see why.

The woman was considerably younger and looked rather like the girl's sister. Her summery platforms made her stand a few centimeters taller than her partner. White flares were matched with a flowery blouse in warm pastels. A white blazer with a single golden detail was left unbuttoned. On her right wrist, a golden watch was ticking quietly between diamonds. Her left ring and middle finger were decorated with gold and white diamonds. Fake nails brushed back bleached locks from her face. Blonde hair covered a hint of auburn roots. Tall cheekbones were highlighted and contoured, thin lips pursed in impatience. Cold green eyes stopped on the figure of the other. After a moment, she sighed and continued walking.

A slender man in his seventies took the luggage of the family. His white hair still kept a hint of chestnut, his face was small and edgy and his nose resembled a hawk's beak. A gray mustache hid thin lips rolled towards the inside of his mouth. His chin was small and pointy. His shoulders tended to lean forward. The black suit he wore contrasted with his white shirt, hair, and skin. A black tie seemed to be strangling his thin neck.

Following her mother, the teenager began walking towards the car. A man in his thirties opened the door for the two females while the leader was following close behind. The butler was helped by the driver to put the luggage in the back of the car.

"Heavens, this is boring..." the woman complained. She rolled her eyes.

"Tiring, rather. Japan looks very different from home." her daughter replied. Since they had left the airport, her eyes had been glued to the car's window. She observed the people, the streets, what they were wearing and how they behaved - as much as it was possible from a fast drive through Tokyo.

"Exactly," she approved. "Driver? How long?" The woman had an air of superiority.

"Ten minutes, signora. Fifteen at most." The man was used to this kind of behavior. He had been paid to fly to Tokyo a week early. For the past two years, he had been the leader's right hand in everything related to family.

"Ah, good!" she exclaimed.

The father and the daughter had fallen silent. Both of them seemed lost in thought. He was born to a Chinese prostitute and abandoned. His adoptive family had raised him as their only child for twenty years. Only days before his 20th birthday, a woman had come to their door holding a newborn baby and claiming it belonged to his father. Enraged, he took a knife and stabbed his adoptive father to death. After that, he had disappeared. Years later, he had taken the new name of Amadeo "the love of God", the only one who he could trust to keep his darkest secret.

Soon, the car stopped in front of a penthouse. As usual, the driver opened the door and helped the woman out. The girl refused him by raising her hand. Her mother was checking her puffy eyes and spoiled makeup in a pocket-size mirror.

"This is unimportant, Anastasia." her husband sighed.

"Oh, darling, but I want to look good for you~" she purred. The woman leaned with both of her hands on his shoulder. Her partner paid no attention.

The butler, helped by the driver out of respect, was going forward to inspect the apartment and leave the luggage.

"Rosa, my dear, why don't you go choose your room and look around?" The mother tried to shoo away the girl.

"Yes, fine. I've told you, say what you mean straightly. Stop beating around the bush." Her answer was sharp, but not hurtful. "Padre?" Her tone had changed slightly. The parent could sense the respect she had for him without noticing any sort of weakness or indecision.

"Caterina?" he asked patiently. It was rare for the girl to address him directly in front of Anastasia.

"Please dine with me this week. I know your schedule is tight, but I ask of you to make time for me one evening."

"Very well."

Caterina was the only person who could address him fearlessly. She had no reason to hesitate in stating her requests. Not even the man's wife dared ask something of him on that confident tone.

Anastasia was jealous, but could very well understand this fight had been lost from the beginning. The only possible relationship between a seventeen-year-old rebel sneaking out the bedroom window and a forty-year-old nightclub owner could be a financial one where she sold her body for money, clothes, drinks, and cigarettes. The man was of the lonely and broken variety, from what Anastasia remembered. He was calm and docile as long as he was in control and sober. When drunk though, he turned into a completely different person. In fact, there was a special interdiction order for alcohol of any kind wherever they went, regardless of the time they were going to spend there.

The bleached-blonde followed a step behind as the man imposed his domination over her. For fourteen years he had not tasted a single drop of alcohol. He had quit smoking and invested all of his savings into some profitable business of which Anastasia knew too little and Caterina was completely uninterested.

-

Notes:

This story is a copy. The original had been published Jul 5th 2015 at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11360317/1/Gospel-for-the-Wicked and had been proofread by the user Eat4Fun on FanFiction.Net.

This story is a Fanfiction, meaning it is fan-made for free enjoyment of other fans. The original series, Death Note, is owned by Tsugumi Ohba.

Rights reserved for my original characters and the reinterpretation of the original story.