Redeemer

Kira was barely coherent, but already screaming, mostly because his injuries were being completely disregarded by the two men hauling him through the back entrance of the villa cellar. He was in and out of consciousness, drenched in blood and alternately being dragged along the gravel, or half carried, depending on how much he managed to struggle despite everything. Seemed even in the face of the mess he was after the wreck, self preservation took priority. Kira knew he was going to his death, and only half saw the blurry vision of white who watched calmly as he was forced passed, down into the cellar where it was musty and dark and lit by bare bulbs. A heavy cellar door was opened and Light was shoved inside. His body crumpled brokenly when it hit the floor, and he cried out because there was a lot wrong with him, there was a lot of pain—but it didn’t matter, Gevanni grabbed a strong fistful of his hair and literally hauled Light across the stone floor where MacEnroe proceeded to shackle and collar him with chains that looked like they’d been formed in the middle ages.

Light was gasping and choking, trying to fend them off, trying to crawl away, tasting blood the whole time as he tried desperately to focus, but the room was spinning wildly out of control. What was broken? His mind was repeating it like a mantra—whatwasbroken?whatwasbroken? He didn’t know, he was numb except for when they touched him—and they were touching him, ruthlessly stripping his clothes away, torn and bloody as they already were, they didn’t care how much pain he was already in, they were tearing the garments away despite his incoherent protests, and then there were more shackles on him, around his ankles—and it was about then, as Light lay there twisted and chained, face pressed against the floor drooling blood into the stone that he saw through bleary vision…Near.

The boy was standing there—an apparition of white—a misleading angelic aura painting a faint halo around him. He was standing there, watching, like God in Judgment of the Devil. Gevanni handed him Light’s Death Note, and Near took it stoically.

“Kira,” Near said, his voice deep, treacherous to his childlike appearance. “I will not fail twice—you will die here. Know this.”

* * *

Tuscany was a long hell of a ride away. Mello scowled but took the orders without question. L sounded as pissed as he had ever heard him, which led him to believe that there was more going on behind the scenes than he even knew. But what did that even matter when he was out in the middle of nowhere, flying like a bat out of hell to Near’s personal centralized stronghold. Interpol too huh? This should be good. Mello grinned and it was that faintly unhinged dangerous grin that crept over his features every time such an opportunity came up. The odds were against him despite the availability of L’s back up, and that made it all the more worthwhile. He was not just going in there to save Light’s ass. This was a perfect example of search and destroy.

* * *

There was blood. And Light was screaming. Agonizing cries that tore into the back of his throat as each searing white explosion of pain behind his eyes, severing his mind at the core as there no longer seemed to be a focus, there no longer seemed to be any semblance of rational thought.

Everything hurt and thus impossible to judge just what sort of damage had been due to the crash and how creative Gevanni was getting, for it was he who pounded into Kira, he who wielded the knife that cut across his skin in just the right way to cause the most amount of pain with the least amount of bloodloss. For this was supposed to last, and if the icy cold water that dripped from Light’s hair was any indication, they were also quite intent on keeping him awake and very much aware as long as humanly possible…

* * *

Hour and a half had passed. Mello’s driving was decreasing L’s initial estimation. He saw it on the map, only a few more kilometers to go. He could make it under half an hour. He would have to. Already Light had suffered at their hands – he knew, by God he knew. Because Near would not waste any time. Because Near would be expecting him at any moment.

The adrenaline had his right hand shaking on the grip, but his gaze was hard set on the road ahead. Hard set on what had to be done. Free Kira. Kill Near.

Kill Near… it had a nice ring to it.

* * *

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say this place had been scoped out and equipped long before Near came to Rome,” Matt muttered irritably around the butt of is cigarette, staring intently at the screen as he hacked into the security mainframe. An easier said task than done, but he had little time to think about the complexities around it. Especially, he noted, consulting the other screen, when Mello was closing in on the villa as fast as he was.

“L,” the blonde chimed in for the first time since his earlier conversation with Matt two hours prior. “I’ve got visual. Getting in won’t be the problem,” and Matt scoffed. If he knew his lover well enough, he knew there would be a bloodbath in his wake from the moment he showed his face to the moment Near was dead. “But I’ll need back up to get him out,” Mello continued uninterrupted. “I’d abandon the bike and take one of their cars, but I assure you he’s not going to be in the condition to be jostled around.”

Matt heard the metallic press of clips falling into their housing and chewed upon his bottom lip. “There’s cameras surrounding the outer walls. The gardens are also rigged, but I’m seeing a clear passage near the center. The house itself seems nearly completely monitored. I’ll cut the feed long enough for you to get in unnoticed.” That element of surprise would be nice, but would hastily be tossed out the window the moment bullets started hitting their marks.

Instead of responding to Matt, Mello addressed L a second time. “What kind of priority list am I looking at here?” He asked and while it may have seemed like a simple question, it was anything but. Worry about Light, or take care of Near first. The answer should have also been obvious, and while once upon a time it would have been, not any longer. Light’s life was most certainly on the line, but so was L’s. Save Kira… or work toward the interest of self-preservation?

”Light comes first,” L said without hesitation. “Get him away from them.” There was really no sane way to rationalize that conclusion from a perspective of justice and logic and the world’s greatest detective, other than the obvious. “You’re going to have back up by air lift—fully equipped medevac, I’m sending them in at your signal, it’s going to take them 10 minutes to get there after the word is given—take that into account.”

Timing was everything wasn’t it? Mello grit his jaw. “Got it,” he muttered.

“And Mello,” L said. “Hurry.”

* * *

The icy water hit him in the face again, and Gevanni had let up long enough to watch Kira attempt to crawl away—not that he had anywhere to go other than to curl against the wall, bloody fingers clawing at stone—he was panting, in absolute agony and the water nearly drowned him on the spot. Light collapsed back the floor, gagging, unable to comprehend just how much he was enduring at that moment, even when Gevanni grabbed him again by the hair and dragged him back, despite the hoarse, rasping protests. If Light had had just an ounce of his focus back he could at least muster some form of defiance in the face of this torment—but that was lost to him, utterly lost, and he was just pleading for it to end.

Gevanni hurled him onto his back, straddling him, wielding the knife and Light was reaching arms up to keep him at bay, arms that were already in so much pain. “Stop, stop,” he panted weakly, “wait,” as though he could reason with any of them.

“Wait for what, Kira?” Near said from the shadows. He’d stood witness from the moment it started, through the beatings and the rape, through the mutilation.

“Just wait,” and Light didn’t even have it in him to think, he just needed to breathe, he just needed a moment to breathe. “what do you want?” Under normal circumstances even Light would have thought that a stupid question to ask, but he couldn’t think of anything else to buy time…

“I thought that would be obvious,” Near replied—his voice disembodied, somewhere just out of view. “I want to see you suffer for your crimes and then I want to see you put to death. It was too easy in the warehouse—you deserve ample punishment.”

“That’s not all you want,” Light managed, and despite the blood in his eyes he could see Gevanni calculating the next wound, his white dress shirt stained everywhere with Kira’s blood. And his weight was heavy on top of Light’s severely battered body, but he wasn’t trying to compound any internal injuries at that moment—he didn’t want to hurry things along unnecessarily.

“That’s true,” Near replied. “I want to know why L is protecting you. And I want you to tell me that Mello is alive.”

At that, Light laughed. He laughed because it hurt, because he was desperate and because he actually had no intention of telling Near either answer. That was when Gevanni smacked him hard, and wrestled his arms back.

“Jon, hold him down,” Near ordered his other agent, and the other man did as he was told, despite Light’s screaming, and unabashed wretched cries of pain.

Gevanni started cutting him again, slits up along his ribs, but what was worse, he was forcing himself between Light’s thighs—he’d already raped Kira on his knees, pounded into him mercilessly from behind, bringing down on him all the shame Light could bear—but it wasn’t over, he was going to keep doing it, it was what Near wanted, to see Kira stripped and humbled and utterly ruined. And that first punishing thrust ripped Light deep because he was already so torn up inside; he cried out—his voice breaking—and Gevanni pumped him unforgivingly, hissing at the obvious pleasure he got out of this whole sadistic performance. Light simply couldn’t struggle—was still being held down—he had to take it and the world was just spiraling in on itself, but the moment his eyes fluttered, threatening to go into a faint—more water was thrown into his face and he was brought back to it all over again…

* * *

“Matt-“

“Signal’s been cut. Go.”

The first patrol was dead within moments. A clear shot to the head dropped him like a rock with as little noise possible. He usually did bother with silencers, but for this particular situation, it was a necessity. Mello ran the distance to the second guard as he walked back toward the gates. A second shot dropped him. For an instant he considered pulling the bodies out of plain sight, but there was just no time to waste. The gates were unlocked and he pushed them open, taking just a moment to survey the lush gardens that led up to the main house before bolting off at a run along the main path.

Matt remained silent on the other side, but Mello caught the anxiety heavy in that silence. Once this was all over, he’d have to apologize to them both. In part, this had been his fault. And as he bolted toward the house was when he was first spotted. There was a moment of hesitation upon the sentry’s face which earned Mello just enough time to knock the receiver out of his hand and deliver a harsh blow at the end of the gun across the man’s face. Blood crept from his temple and Mello wiped the gun against the man’s clothes and spotted the automatic at his belt.

His surprise attack would soon come to an end as numbers grew closer to the house and at last as the guards caught onto the intrusion, word was passed.

The gardens turned into a blood bath. The automatic was messy but did a hell of a better job fending off larger groups than his own handguns, so as Mello threw himself to the ground, rolling behind the cover of a tree, he pressed against the trunk, reloading as his heart pounded desperately in his chest. It had been some time since he’d pulled such a stunt. It was most definitely exhilarating, but the clock was ticking and he heard it too clearly in the back of his mind.

Glimpsing behind him almost earned him a bullet in the shoulder. “Fuck!” he hissed, pressing against the trunk and swept the surrounding area for another way in. No time to devise a proper plan. He pushed himself up and made a run for the side of the house, gun extended to take out a few more guards along the way. He saw none of them drop, but hoped that at least some hits had been true. It would be a mess getting out of here later. Granted there was still a chance to call in backup, but he wanted no such thing. Mello worked alone. That was the way it had always been.

The glass was shattered and he climbed in through what appeared to be a sitting room. He paused there, waiting, regaining his breath.

“There’s going to be a set of stairs that’ll take you down to the lower level,” Matt said in his ear. “Follow that hallway all the way down and to the left. Reception’s shitty down there, so be careful.”

“Got it—” Mello breathed, already moving. The first man that came at him took him by surprise and that was his first mistake. Mello was thrown off his feet with a hiss and a curse, the gun sliding just inches from his hand. It was still close enough and, as the guard foolishly reached for the radio, Mello scrambled to the weapon, flooring himself on his back to take the shot that splattered him red.

* * *

Below, in the room that had become nothing short of a torture chamber, the message resounded off the walls and clear over Light’s agonized cries.

“There has been a security breach. I repeat, there has been a security breach. Subject remains unidentified.”

* * *

Black leather hid the blood quite well – both his own and that of the guard’s that had fallen at his feet. Only the obvious favoring of his leg as he ran, gave away the bleeding wound upon his right thigh. The pain was hardly felt – it would come in ten fold once this was over and the adrenaline rush subsided, but for now, not even so much as Mello’s expression had changed to reflect that minor inconvenience. And perhaps that was what made the guard who burst out of the steel door at the top of the stairs hesitate. The deadly coldness in those eyes as the gun was lifted for the umpteenth time, the fact that Mello did not so much as stop at the sight of the man, or perhaps it was the way his fellow guard’s blood was smeared across leather and violently scarred flesh that drove a spike of icy fear into his expected composure.

He was dead within instants, tumbling back down the stairs he had come from to fall not far from Near’s own pristine white-clad feet.

“Mello.” Ah, there it was—knowledge not lacking surprise, and yet a sort of plain expectancy that the only one who could have challenged his plans this way and to such an extreme was his life-long competitor.

Near twirled a lock of albino hair. “I’m glad to see you alive and well,” he said flatly, glancing down at the bloody body, and not exactly looking Mello in the eye. Near did not look people in the eyes the way L did—perhaps that had always been telling. “You’ve come to save him then,” Near presumed.

“Near,” Mello growled, and even now, the sight of the little white freakazoid was enough to send his blood boiling—but he kept it in check at that moment—like L had already said, Light first.

“If Kira had any honor,” Near continued, “—which we both know he does not—he would end himself after the shame he’s endured here. But since he’s a coward, I am having Gevanni end him now, properly,” a small creepy little smile hitched the boy’s lips.

It struck Mello then that the background noise he’d drowned out at that moment—all of his focus instead zooming in on his hated nemesis—was actually screams of intense agony. Familiar screams—Light. Mello raised his gun and aimed it squarely at Near’s head.

“Call it off,” he demanded.

Near didn’t bat an eye. “I wonder Mello,” he said flatly, “If you shoot me—is that your own prerogative? Or is that L’s orders?”

“A satisfying mixture of both,” Mello responded without a second’s hesitation and found that just then, it took a bit more than a little effort to keep his gaze focused on Near alone and not let it wander back toward the source of the noise. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” And he inched closer, muscles twitching, ready to bolt. Ready to do whatever the hell necessary to make that torture end. A second gun was in his equally able left hand, pointing into the faint glow of light several feet away. If he had to take out Gevanni at the same time, so be it.

Mello did his best not to fully glance in that direction—he knew the sight of whatever they’d done to Light would prove to be far too much a distraction just then, but he sensed Gevanni pause—poised where he was above a weakly moving figure bathed in red—though the SPK agent still had one determined arm firmly fixed down where Light’s throat probably was, the other held a weapon of some sort—knife most likely, Mello recalled the man’s passion for them. What he’d done with the knife, and how mortal Light’s injuries were remained to be seen.

“mel—lo,” but Light saw him at least, his voice weak and ruined, calling for the help he must have been praying for—but Gevanni choked him back …

That was the breaking point. The strain evident in his gaze just that second–and he abandoned Near unblemished and all for the sake of getting to Light on time.

“Let him the fuck go!” He shouted fiercely, firing a surprisingly steady shot right at Gevanni’s wrist. The agent was forced to release Light whether he liked it or not. Mello gave him no chance to regroup however, shoving Near out of his mind as he bolted toward the blood-drenched scene. Hand ascended to click on the comlink he’d turned off on his end prior to entering the room – there was no need for L to overhear any of this right now. “Send in the cavalry,” was all he said before flicking the input back off just as the steel toe of his boot collided with Gevanni’s jaw, kicking him off rather effectively with some new injuries of his own.

The knife fell from his hand and Mello kicked it away before pinning the man down with a crushing heel to the chest and a barrel pointed with deadly accuracy right at his head. Mello’s breath heavy now that his earlier concentration had been shattered; now that the focus had been shaken by the sight of first Near and then Light once again in these conditions. And yet it seemed worse. Too much goddamned blood. Mello dared a glimpse in his direction, features unreadable. No time for apologies.

But dear god, what. did. they. do? It hadn’t even dawned on Mello that Light was stripped bare naked because he was just so absolutely covered in blood it was hard to tell the difference—his breathing was strangled, attention fluttering, blood pooling beneath him…Gevanni had gotten in a potentially fatal stab wound hadn’t he? Knowing him he’d sunk the knife in slow, let Kira feel every inch of its steely cold penetration, making him know that his death was imminent as it cut through skin and muscle and organs…That medevac needed to get there goddamn fast at this rate.

“Fucking sadists,” Mello growled, and with a swipe of his hand, slammed the gun hard across Gevanni’s pretty blood-spattered face. He was sure he saw a tooth or two hit the wall as the man was hurtled into unconsciousness. And goddamnit Near had used that opportunity to flee—he was nowhere to be seen outside the door.

But Light… he was chained and shackled like a slave, and Mello quickly busied himself shooting each cuff with deft precision. “Light,” he breathed, sliding a hand beneath Kira’s head, trying to bring him to focus, “I’m getting you out, stay with me—L’s got help on the way…”

Granted that was also easier said than done, especially in this condition when he did not even know what sort of damage had been caused. And then there was the matter of that bloody incident out on the road. Fuckers. “I need you to stay awake just a while longer,” he insisted, not wanting to take any risks just then.

Mello was forced to shove one gun back into his belt, keeping a second close at hand as he hoisted Light up into his arms with as much care as he could muster given the injuries sustained and the dreadful time limit he found still resting heavily upon his shoulders. The com was flicked on at last. Connection was shitty as Matt had predicted, but it got through nevertheless. “I’ve got him and it isn’t good,” he breathed, feeling the first hints of pain from the bullet that was still lodged in his thigh. Mello grit his teeth, and leaning against the wall a second to regain his bearings, he pushed forward. “I need a diversion or a fucking miracle right about now.”

“I don’t know about the latter, but I’ll work on the diversion,” Matt’s dry response came in, however crackled until they reached the top of the stairs—hauling a half-dead Kira the whole way. The hall was clear and Mello took a second to check on Light dangling limply against him, eyes fluttering as he fought to stay conscious with very little success. “Hey!” Mello hissed at him, causing those lashes to blink hazily at him. “Stay with me goddamnit!” Suddenly the front door seemed too far away. “Where’s the damn back door out of this place?” He demanded and swore that he could see Matt scowling at that very moment.

“Hang a right. Go out through the kitchens onto the back. Should be clear for you and soon enough they’ll have something else to worry about-“ and as he said it, Mello grit his teeth against the loud sound of an explosion going off somewhere in the front. Never a dull moment.

Mello was all but supporting Light completely at that point, and the strain was dragging on him. Light was losing blood, a lot of blood from his side, and that wasn’t due to the countless knife slits all over his body. His legs simply weren’t working for one reason or another and goddamnit Mello still had no idea what sort of injuries he sustained in the crash. “Light, wake the fuck up,” Mello hissed, and not to be cruel, just in the hopes that the snap in his voice would bring Light back around. But he kept slipping, and Mello kept straining to hoist him back up.

“We’ll be there in 5—” Matt said over the com. “Get yourself visible.”

Mello’s brow half squirreled at the grammar of that statement—“What do you mean, we--?”

But he barely got the words out, struggling to drag Light along, whipping his free arm around to clip another guard who emerged suddenly from the pantry stairs.

“Near got away,” Mello growled, “And Light’s bad—he’s really fucking bad.”

“In 4…” Matt said. “Get out.”

“Working on it,” Mello grunted, at last tripping out of the house into the daylight, and it seemed Light was really doing his damnedest just to sink all that dead weight straight to the ground.

“C’mon, Light,” Mello panted. “You’re not going to let those fuckers beat you like this.”

The fuckers in question were rounding the bend of the villa, taking aim at Mello and Light from the cover of the topiary bushes slung around the property. Mello only had so much maneuvering room and ammo left at that point, he dragged Light behind a car, trying to take cover—and thankfully, he heard the whir of a helicopter coming up fast above.

“You’re got sniper cover,” Matt said. “Now.” And on cue, bullets winged down, picking off the pursuing Interpol from the air, the helicopter moving to set down right there in the gravel parkway—it shouldn’t have surprised Mello that the sniper was Matt himself…and the pilot of course, was L.

Mello cursed viciously under his breath the moment fire opened all around him, bullets flying overhead in quick succession, drowned out by the whir of the helicopter blades as the craft touched down, sending a flurry of dust and debris spinning into the air. It was now or never. Having little choice but to make this escape quick, he completely disarmed himself in favor of bodily carrying Light to safety.

The side door slid the rest of the way open as if on cue. As promised L had delivered a fully equipped chopper. God knew it would be needed. Two medics dared out a helping hand to relieve Mello of his burden and get Kira up and out of sight so that Mello could hoist himself up. He’d just gotten himself barely in when L took them airborne, risking no chances of any foolishly daring bastards trying to pursue.

It was all starting to set in and Mello sat there, injured leg extended before him, the other knee lifted to serve as a rest of his forehead because just then it was the best he could do without falling over. His breath was ragged and his hands against the metal floor shaking as that last bit of adrenaline started to fade at last. What the hell had he just done?

Almost to answer himself he looked to Light, who was now out cold, probably a blessing all things considered, as the medics slapped an oxygen mask over him and worked quickly to clean away the blood and find the source of his problems. But yeah, fuck, Mello had just given up his truest shot at Near ever in favor of saving…Kira.

Mello’s head dropped back against the metal-plated seat. He felt Matt’s eyes on him the moment they were clear of the ground. “Yeah.” Mello grunted, “I know.”

Part of him almost wanted to ask how L had pulled this together the way he did—and what was the plan now truly, because it didn’t look like they were heading back to Rome. That most likely meant L had been hard at work setting up an alternate locale outside of the city—his Hotel Hassler suite was a front, the apartment that had served as Light and Mello’s loveshack was forfeit, and their destination unknown to probably everyone but L himself. But that was L—he’d been planning on getting out of the center of things, and this was the best excuse to do so.

But did Mello blame him? No, not particularly he supposed. Ask him again when he had regained some of his common sense and had slept all of this mess off, then the answer might be different. Maybe. Right now, he wasn’t particularly sure he cared.