DeathNote Vengeance
Summary: Four years after the incident in Japan involving “Kira” and his ideals to create a new world with the DeathNote that he had found from Ryuuk, the entire ordeal was written off as a hoax from the tabloids, and nothing was remembered by any of the victims’ families or the ones investigating the case. Near had survived the endeavor, but hung up his duties as an investigator so that he could live his life normally after the death of Mello. In America, the “Kira” incident was simply called a mass suicide of depressed people in Japan, and nobody believed it. Since then, the belief in DeathNotes and Shinigami was pushed to the back of everyone’s minds as a false conspiracy to cover up hundreds of deaths.
Disclaimer: I do not own DeathNote. It belongs to Ōba Tsugumi. I only own the characters that are original, and not part of the actual DeathNote Manga series, thus the characters that are newly introduced into this story. (I had to put this up for FanFiction, so I'll just leave it here.)
Chapter I – Decision
Birds chirped outside as five flew past the window of a classroom elevated only two stories above the ground. The view outside was a bit mediocre, but it was still a nice escape from the dull monotony that a school could give. Trees, grass, and a stream were noticeable, but it was unfortunately obscured by the cars passing by on the roads leading to and from the High School. One boy in particular sat at the far end of the classroom, nearest to the window, and was peering outside, apparently lost in a daze of some whimsical daydream he was having. Only one thing snapped him out of his fantasy, and that was when a rolled up piece of paper hit the side of his head from afar; he did not even need to turn and see who did it, because he already knew. Shoulder length blond hair, green eyes, and a pale complexion could all be seen on the students face as he scowled, shooting a single glance over to the group of kids that were now all giving him the same rude gesture with their middle finger.
Unlike other students, the boy in particular had his own style of dress, and he was typically seen wearing black pants that were intentionally too tight for him to fight, along with a pair of black shoes, and either a white or black, usually generic top, but from time to time, he would be seen wearing a shirt representing his favorite band. To the others, he was labeled as one of those punk or emo kids, who nobody seemed to like, and for that very reason, they ostracized him and antagonized him at every opportunity. The blond youth hated them with every fiber of his being; he just wished that they would drop dead.
“Vincent!” The teacher called out from the front, who noticed that he was not paying attention at all, and demanded that he pick up from where they left off in the novel they were currently reading.
Flipping open his book, the boy named Vincent began to thumb through the pages, clearly not knowing where they were, and after a while, he simply closed the book and glanced up at the teacher, feeling a bit awkward in the situation.
“You don’t know where we are, again, do you?” The older man demanded, putting his hands on his hips and sneering. “Well, I’ll go ahead and tell you that we’re at the bottom of page eighty-nine, and I would appreciate it if you would start from the paragraph there.”
I’d appreciate it if you’d shut your mouth, you prick… Vincent silently retorted to himself before flipping the book open again, and beginning to lazily read the text out loud, or as loud as he considered, but most of it would have simply been mumbling if they were actually paying attention. Stopping after two paragraphs, he glanced up at the teacher, who simply folded his arms and quirked an eyebrow.
“I didn’t say for you to stop!” He shouted, clenching his fingers a bit on his shirt sleeve. “I’m sure a little extra reading isn’t going to kill you!”
If I had the opportunity, I’d name a lot of things that could kill you, old man… Lowering his head slowly back to the book, Vincent was suddenly struck by another paper ball, but by sheer dumb luck, the teacher was not looking, and he could not hesitate to continue reading. After it was decided that he was finished, he slammed the book shut just in time to hear the bell ring for the final class of the day, and without waiting another moment, Vincent stormed out of the classroom.
These miserable people and the way that they look down at me as if I am a piece of garbage has gone on long enough! I do not know what I am going to do, but I am so sick of dealing with this bullshit!
Vincent would feel a sharp pain in the back of his head as a rock struck home against his skull, and hit the ground with a faint spot of blood now fresh on its rough edge.
“D-Damn it! What the hell was that for!?” He turned around, holding the stinging spot on his head as he came into contact with the group of punks from his class that always singled him out as their target. “Billy Matthews…You never seem to go around without your posse, do you?”
“Shut yer trap, bitch.” The one named Billy commented, being a boy of large stature with short, black hair, sharp, brown eyes, and clothes that did not seem to fit him at all with a red and black color scheme from the shirt all the way down to the shoes. “Yer the weaker one here, so it’s only natural that we’re gonna pick on ya! Now, stand still while we put some more poundin’ on ya!”
Narrowing his eyes, Vincent simply backed away and began to run, seeing as how it was his only option unless he wanted to get the crap beat out of him. Skidding to a halt, he dove through a hedge and appeared on the other side of the school parking lot, hoping that he would lose them.
Heavy breathing escaped from the blond youth as he put a hand to his chest, while still keeping one pressed against the gash on his head. “Those…bastards…! They took things way too far this time, and I am going to exact my revenge on them as soon as I can!”
Sitting up, Vincent would feel yet another object hit his head, but he would not feel the same sharp pain as it simply slid off of his head and into his lap, having a faint bit of blood smeared against the cover as he read two words: “DeathNote.”
“Death…Note?” Vincent rolled the words around on his tongue for a few moments before it came to him, that he had heard about an incident several years ago in Japan involving a DeathNote and a false god named Kira, who was bringing his own sense of justice to the world. “This…can kill anyone whose name gets put into it!” He cried out, but quickly quieted himself and hid the notebook inside of his shirt.
As soon as he stood up to begin walking away, Vincent heard the familiar voice of Billy cry out his name, and he turned around to see the group now standing before him, wielding bats and other projectiles in their hands like the one from before.
“Stop trying to run away and this will go so much easier on ya!” Billy called out to him, thrusting a finger out at him with a smug grin present on his visage. “I’m just gonna bang ya up a bit, and then ya can go!”
Dropping his bag, Vincent cracked his knuckles and decided that he was going to put his faith in something that could be a complete hoax that the citizens of Japan had made up to cover up a mass suicide rate during the time frame of the Kira incident, which he had always assumed was an inside job to begin with. Vincent decided that he was not going to use the DeathNote as a means to bring justice to the world, but instead, he was going to exact his revenge upon those that always treated him like trash, starting with Billy Matthews.
“The first one is free,” Vincent murmured to himself as he opened the notebook, pulling out a pen, only to get several laughs from Billy and his group, who mocked him for pulling out a book and pen in the situation he was in. “The first one is free? I suppose just one is good enough to deal with this one!”
Vincent turned to the first, blank page and wrote down Billy Matthews on the blank line, not even bothering to read anything past the first note that was left on the cover. He slammed the book shut and slipped his pen into his pocket before turning his gaze up to see Billy in front of him, grabbing him by the collar with his bat in his free hand.
“The hell do ya think yer doin’?” Billy demanded, quirking an eyebrow and jerking him around like a rag doll. “Scribbling some garbage down in yer little book ain’t gonna save ya here!”
As soon as the words escaped from his mouth, Billy dropped his bat and grabbed at his chest, feeling a searing pain course through it as he dropped to his knees, clawing his abdomen until he began to form fresh gashes on him, and seconds later, he collapsed to his side, falling dead due to an apparent heart attack.
I-I did it! It actually works! Billy Matthews…is dead! He’s dead! I can’t believe it!
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Alright, so I wrote this a long time ago. February 6, 2008. A long long time ago, it seems, and I kind of want to hang myself with it. I've read over it a lot of times and think it could be a whole hell of a lot better. It's a work in progress and I'll probably rewrite the entire first chapter to start fresh with something new. I don't like how this turned out.
Anyways! I will definitely take suggestions and feedback. Constructive criticism is a must. I don't care how harsh you are, but don't thrash it completely and try to refrain from spam remarks like "This story is crap!" or "DeathNote is teh gay" or whatever the hell it is that idiots say. I will find it well within my rights now to delete your post and report your spam to the top brass. ^^
