[There's a long pause, then a thoughtful, monotone hum.]

Very apocalyptic.

The Shadow Temple, as it happens, is a very unpleasant form of accomodation.

I am quite glad to be rid of it.

[The clatter as the recording flickers to life betrays it as accidental (most likely, at least). Something - someone - can be heard skidding over ground, messy ground, strewn with debris. Glass can be heard, crunching underfoot and tinkling, musical. There’s a pregnant pause, one of those short ones that seems so much longer.

And then the sound of a few sprinted steps. Air whistles – a strike, and there’s a definite collision, someone grunting from the force of it. Again, and again, it goes on, barehanded and quick, nothing to paint the picture but the pace of the footsteps, the negative space left gaping in between them. There’s another vocalisation, low, pained – and then it spikes into alarm as L is brought down. He can be heard hitting the ground – there’s one of those sickening scuffing sounds as he skids, tries to pull himself up and into another attack, and fails.

There’s a dull, wet thud, and then silence.

Silence, but for a silk-soft scraping sound. Glass, perhaps. Glass being sifted through (until just the right piece is found) and then, tearing fabric, unusually loud, before it falls quiet again.

Long, festering quiet – and it is long this time, not just some illusion of it. In fact, it seems like the feed might just cut out…

The sound that comes can scarcely be described. It’s sharp and low at once, barely even audible. It’s a wet sound, a sick sound. A cut maybe.

And L’s voice, his usually monotone voice, is twisted up into a yell, wordless and agonized.

(What follows it, very soft, may just be a snigger.)

The cry trails off into a slurred, tremulous groan, dizzy with pain.

And then, that quiet.

One more sound – somehow, it’s vaguely reminiscent of the ripping fabric.

But it doesn’t matter anyway. It hardly lasts long.

It’s drowned out by the sound of L screaming.]

I believe I shall wait a while before returning home. Matt, you may not wish to extend that invite to me for now, however kind of you it was.

Mello. I see you have joined us. A sizeable basket of chocolate was left in my care, but I'm afraid it no longer exists as you know it.

I hope whoever it was that found themselves stuck in the clocktower managed to free themselves. That could be quite a safety hazard.

[There's a pause, and then a surprising sort of yelp as something explodes.]

...I believe I preferred the rolling.

I will address this to anyone who owns a cat: please keep an eye on them.

I was very curious, you see.

[The feed comes on with a clatter. Evidently, it's been dropped on rock. But that's barely audible over the loud, rolling crunch...

Which stops sharply. The noise this time is definitely a voice. Oop. Weird voice, though.]

Oh it has fallen again.

[Faintly recognisable. Ohrr.]

Oh, and it has switched itself on again.

I must develop a way to better secure the communicator when rolling.

It is, however, entertaining.

[Sigh.]

I believe I may almost have missed this place, despite being far more used to the busier cities. It has it's own quaint - if somewhat gloomy - charm. And I also find myself far better stocked.

Mr. Urameshi - or may I call you Yuusuke now? - are you at all acquainted with the works of Shakespeare?

...It may be time to stock up.

[A small hum, thoughtful.]

It seems I have spent the last four days or so sleeping rough.

...I suppose I should be grateful.

All in all, quite a macabre set up.

Miss Hawkeye, please add my name to the Task Force roster.

Aaron, it seems I still have some things left over from Easter. We could try our hand at fondue. Or you could, I confess I have little of that sort of experience.

[L's voice, whilst not happy by any means, is upbeat, determined. Well, as much as that monotone can be.]

Be careful, everyone. It seems our suspicions were confirmed.


[Locked to Wammy's Boys/Ada]

[And it falls back into that flat, dour patina.]

Finally, a move made. As much as I dislike doing nothing, that was necessary.

I wonder if he can see every word.

[And that, of course, was said in a voice that didn't seem to be wondering anything at all, the only curiosity in it idle.]

Ada, who else is working on this case?


[Locked to the Crimson King]

You have been busy recently.

[Light's voice is hesitant, perhaps nervous, but pleasant, as if he's trying to mask his anxiety. It's difficult - it's impossible to believe this is a young megalomaniac with a god complex who's killed thousands.]

A blackberry?

Where...

[His English is close to impeccable, a trace of suspicion in his voice, of course. The ruse is perfect. And the best lines are coloured with truth.]

Is there anybody out there?

[Locked to Task Force]

[Smooth, upbeat, even.]

Well done on securing the killer. I am fifty-three percent sure that we shall have something to work with in any future related incidents.

[Locked to Demons]

[And now to the point.]

This book. What is its use?

[Locked to Wammy's Boys]

Perhaps the Crimson King meant for us to find him.

[L's voice has shifted from his usual monotone to a quiet bark, commanding.]

Task Force!

The killer has left a trail from Sunde. Follow it. We are on the brink of catching the murderer. However, the murderer is only the catspaw.

The red right hand, if you will.

((So. A little bit of explanation to avoid seeming godmoddy. Yes, L believes he has worked out who the killer is. Though he's more fond of getting others to do his leg work for him, he felt it would be more reliable if he went himself. And so he followed a trail he expected to find and wound up at... dun dun dun. An open sewer.))

Miss Wong. Your thoughts, please. I trust you have uncovered the desired information?

Matt. This book Elena went to retrieve. What is the purpose of it?

Do we still have nothing from Shin-Ra?

Miss. Wong.

I would like to talk to you regarding the case and Mr. Winchester's murder.


Mello.

I must know what it was the Turks took from his body.

There is nothing to be done about this.

The only option is that this is the work of a higher power.

Axel.

Alexia uses resources in Castle Nobody, correct?

[Now made viewable to Near]

So, we have our original killer, and the copycat killer. I do not believe that these two figures are connected. Whilst the cuts on Miss. Lockheart's body could have been accidental and meant to read 06/21, such an occurance from our killer is highly unlikely. Also, the matter is definitely one close to our killer's heart, excuse the pun, and I do not believe he would disrupt the flow of his work, even if it is to lead us away from him.

Once more, I feel you ought to be warned as to the nature of the post. It is for personal reference more than anything else.

( It is, once again, also rather long. )

[What follows is filtered from Prince]

We do have an apparent lead as to Tifa's murder, that being Prince. Matt, if I may, for the purposes of the investigation, please trail Prince for the time being.

[Locked to Task Force]

Miss. Wong.

A full report, please.

[Locked to Matt/Mello]

So Matt became the intended fourth. And he was not alone, I believe?

[Now made viewable to Near]

What follows is rather grisly. I assume you are all able to stomach such things, but perhaps it is only fair to give a warning. It is for personal reference more than anything else.

( It is also rather long. )