Chapter 2: Nero: Iniquitas usquam est a threat ut justicia undique.
Same time somewhere in Tokyo
Nanami Hara was buying a present for her friend's eighteenth birthday a week early. Doing so now prevented her from nearly forgetting because of homework. It was broad daylight and she loved the feel of the sun's warmth against her light brown hair as she strolled to one store after another. Her eyes strayed to her left, showing a possible shortcut home through the alley. After a few minutes of thought she decided against it and was about to continue on her way when someone grabbed her. Nanami's eyes searched the area in a panic for someone...anyone. When she was blindfolded, she screamed for help until someone put a foul smelling handkerchief over her mouth and nose. It muffled her cries for help as she slipped off to another world.
"Vous idiote!Nous devoir se presser maintenant !Quiconque dans quelques centaine pieds pouvions prendre écouter son!*" Was the last thing she heard before she passed out.
She woke up sometime later and slowly opened her blue topaz eyes only to be met with blackness. The young woman was free to talk though, yet now she was afraid to as she heard the sounds of heavy footsteps, clinking metal, and a voice speaking what she knew to be French into a cell phone. Nanami now regretted not studying the class hard enough while she learned English and Spanish at the same time. Thankfully, she knew a little and made sure to listen closely, which was difficult because even though he was close his words were hurried.
": I'm sorry it took so long...he left for his...yeah...see he's there. Girl is...of course...almost six. Agreed.:" She managed to make out so little but it was enough to let her know she needed to find a way out of there now or she'd be leaving in a body bag. She almost didn't want the blindfold to be moved from her eyes.
As if on cue she heard the footsteps grow closer and it felt like the floor was shaking, but Nanami soon found it was just her; her nerves tense with anticipation and fear. The blindfold was lifted from her face and she caught sight of the source of the metal clinking in her kidnappers hand opposite the one holding the phone before he put it away.
He was tapping a knife habitually against a table top and when she looked on she found, to her distaste, that the knife in his hand wasn't the only sharp item in the room. The table held guns, knives, swords, razors, and things she didn't know the names of as she had never seen them before.
Nanami reluctantly glanced at him to see him watching her stoically. He had light neatly groomed flaxen hair that ceased at half past his ears, flawless three shades darker than pale skin, and thinly lashed hazel eyes that burned their way past her skull. It was like they could sense her every thought and emotion. She had never felt the gaze of eyes so cryptic and intimidating, but they seemed to hold her in her place as her body trembled. Nanami couldn't prevent her overactive imagination as it brought up one horrid possible death after the next. Only vaguely aware of her binds she imagined him severing her every limb and letting her bleed out, crucifying her, hanging her the wrong way so she would slowly suffocate and then slice a line across her neck.
The man then spoke a language that was not French but Latin. This was a course she had taken so she heard every word. His voice was cold, dark, and yet pleasant to listen to.
"God, I send to you the soul of this innocent child to cleanse my sins." As he approached her, her eyes widened and she squirmed wildly in her seat in a fruitless attempt to escape. The last mistake she made was looking up into his eyes. They had changed and now he held such a soft and sweet smile. She was so caught up in it that she failed to recall the knife still in his now poised hand.
There was a stunning pain in her lower torso and her gaze snapped to it, finding her light blue summer dress changing color and tearing as the man drew a curved line across her stomach resembling a smile. Nanami's last memory would be of his angelic expression as he pulled the knife out, ignored the insides and warm red life blood soaking the cement floor, and stabbed it into her heart.
She was killed immediately.
"Vous êtes trop bons pour ce monde.*"
As soon as she stood up from his seat he took a mental picture, setting everything to memory. She had long strawberry blonde hair that stopped a few inches past the middle of her back. Her posture wasn't much better than his own, as she seemed to naturally slouch back a bit, showing her center of balance was probably more to her left. The soft brown color of her eyes was a contradiction to the sharp and calculating nature of them as she appeared to analyze every corner of the room. She was an estimated height of 5'6'' when she wasn't slouching. Her main focus was beside her where his computers were.
Myles was clothed more for personal comfort rather than anything else, he noticed, as she slipped off her coat, jumping slightly when Watari walked up behind her and asked to put it up for her with one hand while offering her a drink with the other. She accepted it with a curt nod and a quiet ' thank you'. Her top was a black T-shirt currently slipping off one shoulder and stopping right above her naval. The pants she was wearing were low on her waist, baggy, and too long as they nearly consumed her sneakers. His eyes widened when he saw the scars. Some were on her shoulder and neck while others were only hinted at as few parts were visible from the angle he was at.
"Told you I'd surprise you. I'm Myles." From that sentence alone he could hear the French accent she carried. He was not expecting to walk in and see Myles here already nor was he expecting a girl. He made a face at himself wondering if it was a sexist thing to expect.
L glanced back to her scars and found himself fascinated, vaguely wondering how she had obtained them. If Myles knew he was staring at them, she showed no sign of caring. Then again she did seem to already know who he was and still appeared more interested in his computers than him anyway. Her gaze locked on the images of the crime scenes found about ten minutes before she had arrived. He was so used to thinking of both the time here and Marseille, so he knew she was probably feeling weird about being taken seven hours into the future (Tokyo is approximately seven hours ahead of Marseille, France). She seemed to be mentally aware of this difference, but he knew her body was less fortunate.
L was not new to jetlag.
She was uncomfortable in this foreign house as well as the country, he was sure, watching her sip her blue slushy like drink. L himself was not fond of alcohol. To him, it took away from the mind its potential, dried it out... and yet Myles seemed unaffected by it. She shook her head and set her drink down.
'Did she get a brain freeze?' Was his first thought but when she didn't look at the computer again for a few minutes, he changed his hypothesis. Her eyes were on the floor and glued there as she took deep breaths and another ten sips from her beverage before once again turning to the monitors. Only four of them were on at this moment, revealing the four different crime scenes.
Myles either had an extraordinary focus as she examined the four pictures or she was just using them as targets while she zoned out, since she seemed to be staring through them rather than at them. It appeared these photos were sending her back into the confines of her mind and forcing her to bring out the memories of ten years ago.
He caught the corner of her mouth move unsteadily as though she was about to start crying, but it was brief and replaced by a stoic line. L would have to watch out for her. Whatever her connection, it didn't appear to make her nearly as angry as it made her depressed.
Once she had looked at them for long enough she turned to him.
"It is nice to finally meet you face to face, L. I would prefer it if you called me Fleur...it reminds me of home and too many people know me by Myles. I remember you going by Deneuve when we first became acquainted with one another. May I call you that instead of L since I know using that name can be very risky here?" L nodded.
"When we were talking yesterday, you sounded like you were omitting certain valuable information from me. Could you tell me what it is you remember from that other case in Marseille?" Fleur paused and touched her fingertips together.
"After the tenth set of murders...there should be signs of cannibalism. It was what happened during the case in France." She muttered and his eyes widened slightly. How was she aware of this information? He knew it was impossible for her to be one of the killers herself but in order for her to know this...she would have had to be there for one of the murders and witnessed not only the murder, but the cannibalistic act as well.
All at the fragile age of seven. This could definitely be the cause of her emotional withdrawal.
"If you haven't noticed the locations of the last three squad murders are different as well as the shapes that they make on a map. Their methods for killing change up every time as well and I believe they think they are doing what is right, sacrificing innocent people for their own sins as if they themselves believe... this gives them the right to end the life of another without thinking or caring they might have others who care about and love them..." Fleur's voice trailed.
"What is your motivation?" Doe eyes turned to me questioningly.
"Pardon?"
"Why did you agree to help me on this case? I know it's not just because you've experienced the same thing in Marseille."
"You're asking this because...?"
"Because I want to make sure you're determined enough to do whatever is in your power to stop these senseless killers."
"Then it doesn't matter what motivates me...it only matters that whatever it is motivates me enough." She pointed out.
"And if that's the case then I can promise you that I am willing to put my life on the line to solve this case." Her words held something in them and L didn't know what it was exactly, but he believed her.
"Why won't you tell me what your motivation is?" He asked nonchalantly and she sent him an awkward forced smile.
"Because it's something I would prefer you not know until the last possible moment." It was around that time she noticed his cart of sweets and walked over to it cautiously.
"What is all this?" The look on her face was new and he had to admit it was cute. The cautious curiosity in her movements and on her face reminiscent of a deer.
"Try something. They're all good. If you find something you particularly like just tell Watari and I'm sure he'll be more than happy to make it for you whenever you like." He informed and she looked at him, to the cart, back to him, and then her eyes locked on an apple fritter.
"Help yourself." L encouraged as he walked over to the screens and sat down, his feet and a portion of his back holding him up.
I picked up the fritter and nibbled on it like a small forest creature would an acorn or a carrot, making a sound of delight at its deliciousness. Taking a sip from my drink caused an expression of disgust to wash over my face...apple fritter and daiquiri don't mix well.
"Are you alright? You look like you've been poisoned." L wasn't even looking away from his screens as he tack-tack-tacked away at his keyboard and I couldn't even guess how he knew I had had a late discovery (and the ill fortune) to try an apple fritter and then take a sip of my blueberry daiquiri. My eyes stayed on him as I figured out what he was doing, thinking he was probably searching for other things to show me. I decided to beat him to it.
"Deep gashes from the top of both arms to the bottom of them...same was done to the legs and stomach. The second week it was burning holes into their palms, cutting out their eyes, the removal of one ear-usually the right, and then they would be beheaded." My voice was so calm it frightened me. One should never be able to get used to death, no matter how many times you witnessed it in some way, shape, or form. My eyes glided over to L sitting in a way I had never seen before. It didn't look comfortable at all from my perspective. In fact he looked as though he was in the fetal position and all that was different was that he was in his early to mid-twenties.
I wondered how he could be so calm and not worry about his sanity. His head turned to me but I continued to stare. Zoning out was one of my bad habits as I was constantly getting lost in my own thoughts.
"Fleur?" My glazed over eyes didn't move from their random target.
Had my father gotten used to it?
A hand grabbed my shoulder and I cried out in shock, jumping back. When I saw L, I released the tension in my muscles with a sigh. Then I found myself laughing. It had started off as a light and airy chuckle and grown from there. I composed myself as soon as I could and calmed my breathing.
"I'm sorry, L-Deneuve, but I don't know where that came from. I zone out frequently while remembering things, thinking too deeply...things like that."
"Was there writing finger painted on a wall in the victim's blood?" He asked, and I rushed past him to take in the new pictures. Each room had one word written on the wall and it was a different word every time: ' Dieu', ' Nettoyez', ' Mes', and 'Péchés' so if read straight across read ' God, cleanse my sins.' I took a deep breath, preparing to dive into the thickest river of insanity I had ever faced. They were insane if they were anything like the ones before them.
"Anything like him." I winced at the thought and hoped none of them had been as messed up as him and none of the ones today were the same as he was and done the things he did so... easily. Talking to the people he cared about as though nothing were wrong and then killing his own wife, the woman he had claimed to love, right in front of their daughter by speaking some words she didn't understand at the time before snapping her mother's neck. Then he cut into her stomach and started eating parts of her raw as if thinking it would provide him immortality...liver, kidney, appendix, and heart...
After that he even took the knife he had been using on her stomach to cut of slices of her still warm skin and chunks of red meaty muscle. He didn't even notice his own daughter standing behind him in shock and confusion, watching the gory scene in front of her.
I shook my head and huffed, scolding myself for thinking about something hardly relevant at the moment. L was watching me, though. It seemed my knack for zoning out like an eccentric psychic attracted attention. I watched as he brought his hand up and pressed his thumb against his lower lip, likely analyzing my person. I didn't like being watched, it made me uncomfortable and sometimes feel like crying.
"Fleur, do you know what this means?" By the tone of his voice when he asked the question, I had a feeling he already had an idea of what they might be dealing with. I looked to the screen, which was now scanning websites for related cases appearing like pages in a book, flipping upwards with blue titled chapters. I knew the results would involve Marseille's case.
"They believe killing these innocents in particular ways, step by step and week by week, repeating every ten weeks, but after the first forty total deaths... there will always be cannibalism involved. These people think consuming the flesh of the innocent that they themselves have automatically become innocent and immune to sin." I explained once I found the words.
"Don't they know that killing people is wrong?" This innocent question didn't fool me. I knew him better than he thought.
"They don't see them as people, Deneuve...they see them as lesser tools for a greater cause. Once they pick their victim it is too late. They will want to be the one who kills whomever they deem innocent. No one can prove them wrong well enough to convince them the person is not innocent or that the killing of their ' chosen ones' is wrong. They can't understand reason unless it follows theirs all the way through. "
"This is your opinion?"
"This is my knowledgeable opinion." I frowned deeply at the screen and yawned. It was strange as I had just gotten here...I looked at the clock- about five hours ago. I decided it had to be something else and L's calmness wasn't normal even though he was human. My mind was beginning to waver to irrelevant things like the room, where I was going to sleep, and then trying to figure out what some of the things on the cart beside L were.
"May I ask who gave you those scars?" L inquired suddenly, redirecting my focus to them. I regarded them with a monotonous gaze, remembering how and when I had gotten each and every one, but L had asked ' who' not how, making it seem like he knew they had been given to me by a specific person. As true as it was, I did not like people knowing much about me.
"Many people." Was my cautious response, which was actually somewhat true in a sense.
"I know that none of the dots were done by you since you don't smoke." I had at least ten cigarette burn scars on my right shoulder that were visible.
"The others, though, look like they could be cuts and other burns that broke the skin." I frowned. Usually people who noticed didn't say anything about it. I flinched violently from the memories and absentmindedly rubbed my left wrist; soothing a phantom pain.
L watched her reaction to the question and his scrutiny of her scars, coming to the conclusion she had been abused as a child. Her mother or father had probably used her as an ash tray and who knows what else they'd done to her, but her scars seemed to have a pattern he couldn't quite make out. He saw she regarded them coldly, but at the same time seemed to still be in pain.
She still appeared to be enjoying her alcoholic beverage, but ceased to eat anything until she was done drinking it. This amused L when he remembered her facial expression from the time before. She seemed haunted, though, and he wondered if whatever her motivation was had something to do with the strange pattern of scars on her shoulder.
"I hope you're staring at me because you're musing about whether or not you should ask me what to expect from the rest of the sacrificial killings because I don't feel like telling you my life story." Fleur stated as she stared right back at him. Her gaze was slightly bored yet seemed to hold a bit of interest. L deduced he had been right about his earlier thought.
"None of these documents give out full detail about what happened during every murder and what the possible cause of it was."
"You know they hide at least one detail from every murder in order to help catch the real guy on the off chance he turns himself in. These people will say everything, but it won't make sense to you because the way they talk is...practically coded." Fleur explained before more people stepped through the doors. The task force was finally here. I turned to them in order to acknowledge their arrival.
"Soichiro Yagami, Touta Matsuda, Shuichi Aizawa, Hideki Ide, and Kanzo Mogi... it is nice to see you all again and I am glad you wish to help on this case as well." They all simultaneously shifted to Fleur, who was showing signs of increasing discomfort.
All had questioning looks on their faces.
"Everyone, This is Fleur. She has helped me with quite a few other cases and has dealt with a case exactly like this in Marseille. Fleur, this is the Task Force that assisted me on the Kira case I mentioned on occasion." L introduced and she nodded stiffly and jumped back with wide eyes when Matsuda advanced in her direction.
"Wow, you're French? Did you really fly here all the way from there? L never mentioned you before, but I can see why. You're so cute he must have wanted to keep you all to himself." The other members of the team aside from L sighed at the young officer's predictable nature. L or ' Deneuve' just sat there and waited for Fleur's response.
": He never saw my face before today.:" Made me turn to the screens with a slight smirk on my face, while Matsuda stood there with question marks over his head.
"She only knows French?" Aizawa asked, and L looked to her. Her eyes were looking at Aizawa and then to him.
"It would seem so." L replied, earning a blink from Fleur. That's when Matsuda saw the scars on her shoulder.
'Great.' The detective thought, but continued to watch, curious for how the young woman would retaliate.
"Those marks-" He cowered when she shot him a dark seething glare. It would seem she wasn't used to his personality and responded with anger.
"That's usually a sensitive subject, Matsuda." Yagami chuckled.
": You didn't tell me there would be more people.:" She frowned in my direction.
": I'm sorry, Fleur, but they are vital to this case.:" Deneuve replied.
": Deneuve, you brought police along and didn't even give me a heads up:"
"Deneuve? Is that the alias she knows you by, Ryuuzaki?" Mogi asked.
"It's easier for her to remember than my other aliases. She also appears to prefer it to the others anyways." He explained.
There was a sudden loud slurping sound, and they all looked to Fleur, who was so engrossed with her drink she didn't appear to sense the six pairs of eyes on her. When she did, she looked at her drink, and then glanced up again.
": I need another drink. I'm going to find Watari-:"
": No need. I'll call him and request another one be made for you. I need you to stay for a while longer. Just until we are done catching them up.:"
": Okay, but thank him for the first one for me? It was really good.:" The woman replied under her breath.
": Of course.:"
Was he insane? Did he honestly believe I would feel comfortable around all these people? It didn't matter who they were or what they had done. Getting used to one person was difficult enough, but five? I sighed and shook my head as I turned away from them and headed towards the couch.
"Watari, could you please bring Fleur another drink?" There was a pause and I had a feeling he was glancing at me before he added." She also wanted me to thank you for the first." Afterwards he turned to the others, his seat making a slight squeak reminding me of a dying mouse. Thinking of that made me flinch more than the sound of the chair itself.
"Before you came in I asked Fleur if she would tell me what we should expect from the other crime scenes up until the tenth one. She has already informed me the tenth will show signs of cannibalism." As expected they all gasped.
": If they are not prepared for something this high on the scale then they should leave. If they come in contact with any of them they should not try to persuade them verbally as it will not work. These people are all crazy. They will not hesitate to kill you if you seem like a threat...and they will do anything in their power to kill you.:"
"She explains that you should not approach them if you see them. At least not on your own. They are criminally insane and dangerous. If you feel you are not prepared to risk your life for another case...then I must ask you to leave now." L translated for me, editing my phrasing and sending me an inquiring look.
": The fourth killing group will involve arrows being burned into the flesh of their stomachs, half of their ears removed by a serrated knife, and horizontal cuts along their wrists and ankles. They will be bled out. Fifth is important to them, as the elements seem to connect with the number five. They will burn the left hand, dehydrate the right in a way that makes it seem frozen, beat the left leg with a rock, and the right leg should have a frostbite on it somewhere from water too cold...or a scald mark from it being too hot. On their foreheads should be a sign that looks like this.:" I took a pen and paper from the random pile scattered on the coffee table, ripped off a clean piece, and began to draw.
First a triangle, then an eye in the center, and finally I drew three lines coming up from each side with the center line being longer than the other two on either side of it...those ones being of equal length. I stood and handed it to L.
": This mark is the 'Eye of God'.:" Deneuve/L told them of the next two killings while posting the picture I drew on a board underneath a number five. He then began to write down what I had mentioned under four and the rest that came with five.
": The sixth...:" I was searching in my mind for the right order and useful details.
": The body is bludgeoned almost killing the victim, and then their hands are removed at the wrist by wire, and a thin circle is cut around the neck...deep enough to hit a very fatal artery and kill them; common carotid.:" My head started hurting and I frowned, rubbing it lightly with my hand before rubbing circles around my temples.
"Is something wrong, Fleur?" Deneuve asked with his light English accent lacing his words. He had stopped writing after making the number seven by a number six, and after seeing his horizontal list of what to look for... I saw how it looked more like a menu describing what would be left after their death for cannibals than a list with a use aside from disgusting those unfortunate enough to see it.
": Headache.:" I lightly grumbled and Watari walked in with another drink. I practically ran over to him and was taking a sip of it as soon as it was in my hands. I never seemed to get headaches from alcohol unless I had about six of these drinks. I got tipsy and buzzed at about my fourth.
": If you have them caught up on everything else...then I think I'm going to go to my room and try to remember ways seven through nine...way ten is obvious. They cut off pieces, and eat them alive.:" I muttered before sauntering out the doors to the elevator as Deneuve translated my words. I thought for a moment that I had heard someone throwing up, but brushed it out of my mind. If they couldn't deal with it...then that was their own fault.
Slurping more of my drink, I felt like I was being lightly tossed up by some force of air underneath my feet rather than the gears and machinery really involved. That's how quiet the elevator ride up was. I closed my eyes until I heard the 'ding' signaling my little flight was over, and stepped out onto solid ground with a sigh. My face almost broke into a smile when I thought about having my own floor. The rooms on it were amazing, but I decided to close my eyes again and walk down the hallway to just stop.
": Which room is mine, Daddy? There are so many.:" A little girl about five asked her father.
": Want to hear a trick I used to do all the time?:" He questioned back, and she giggled and nodded.
": Close your eyes and take as many steps as you want. When you stop, turn in either direction and try the closest door there. If you like it then it's yours.:" The girl clapped her hands and followed his instructions.
": I want this one, Daddy!:" She beamed.
": Then let us get the movers up here.:"
I opened my eyes and stopped in front of two doors and turned to my right. Glancing at my left, I wondered if I should try it first...but then I pushed away the adolescent urge just as I pushed the door open.
It was perfect.
Taking a second look around at the black, white, and grey color scheme I concluded that the word fit and shoved away any self criticism that said otherwise.
Everything was thrown together nicely and I had always liked simple colors. I grew even more attached to the room when I saw how creatively they were used.
My drink and I stuck out to these surroundings as I made my way to the bedroom...and then I wondered if I was ever really going to use it as I had never been able to really make it to bed on mornings during a case. Like with my place in Marseille, I would almost always fall asleep in front of my portable laptop with a black and white checker board design, reminding me of chess.
The bedroom had black walls including the ceiling and it made me think of an oversized black box. There was an entire wall that was window, covered by a wide curtain of grey. The ground looked fluffy and white like snow, contrasting with the dark abyssal walls. I had an idea for the ceiling in this room as well as the living room, but I didn't have the right materials for it just yet.
I sighed and looked to the bed, quilted in a plaid combination of the three shades of monotone. The pillows were either black or white and there were a lot of them in many different shapes and sizes.
This bothered me. There only needed to be two or three pillows on the bed, so why were there so many extras?
I spun around when I heard a knock on the door and tip toed towards it, debating on whether or not I should open it.
"Miss Fleur, its Watari. I have your luggage." The voice on the other side replied, making my decision for me. I unlocked and opened the door to find Watari surrounded by more than I had brought with me.
"You didn't seem to have enough supplies to last you for very long so I took the liberty of bringing the rest of your belongings from your home in Marseille."
Avent better not be curled up in one of those cases or I'd be pissed.
"Thank you, Watari." I attempted a small smile and he smiled politely in return.
"If you need anything at all just let me know." Watari smiled. It was one of those smiles that you could depend on and usually saw in a father when you were little. He didn't remind me of a father but I felt he was potential father figure material.
"I'll be sure to do that." I nodded, and he walked out, closing the door behind him.
"Now how am I gonna set all this up?"
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FAN COVER IMAGE BY TheyCallHerAvalon!
Okay...translations!
Vous idiote!Nous devoir se presser maintenant !Quiconque dans quelques centaine pieds pouvions prendre écouter son!- You idiot! We need to rush this now! Anyone within hundred feet could have heard her!
Vous êtes trop bons pour ce monde- You are too good for this world.