Kaleidoscope Armageddon

BY : Jeichan
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 651
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I make any money or such from the writing of this fanfiction.

Kaleidoscope Armageddon

Summary: 112 years after the end of Death Note, Kira’s Philosophy grew in humankind’s thoughts, changing humanity’s view on evil and punishment until creating a new world. Not the Utopia Light dreamed of, but the Holocaustic Hell of Armageddon.

POV (Point of View) will change between characters throughout the fic, mainly between these four Main OC’s: Justice R., Jez W., Nyukkyu M., Lawliet Y. (Try to guess their last names)

Chapter One: Law and Justice

Year: 2122

Justice R. POV:

Surrounded by decay, the boundaries of flesh rotting in the alleys and gutters swept with grime. Asphalt soaked with urine and gasoline that the scent of recent rain could only dim. Ba-dum, ba-dum, each step my heart beat slow, a dirge that never up-rose and the gutters gurgled the last of the rain into the sewers. The jacket I wore bore a browning bloodstain, a medal signifying its previous owners battling prowess, now my mark to bear.

His body would probably end up as bait for the fishing industry on the K-Liberation side, or used as a specimen of human immorality to propel the Fundamentalist-Kira agenda in ridding the filth from the backstreets and alleyways. Whichever. I whistled and slid open the bar door, eyes adjusting instantly to the darkened corridor. I sniffed the air, musty and filled with drugs, it beat the stifling stench of garbage on the streets.

At least no one left corpses to rot underground.

I sighed, the prolonged exhale inaudible as I approached the barroom, conversations already rife as I locked my eyes on one table in particular. I paused as a redhead huffed and pouted before glaring at the brown-charcoal haired teen smoking at the table.

‘Makka.’ I ruffled through my pockets to delay my arrival, the redhead’s name too bitter on my tongue to speak. The 19 year old still clung to hope and bizarre theories that could stop the K-Liberation and Fundamentalist-Kira parties from ruling the surface. The bizarre theories I barely tolerated, but the ones professing a need for compromise between the RAKI (Rebellion Against Kira) and either party bubbled nausea in my gut.

Fundamentalist-Kira burned down the orphanage I was born in when I was a mere five days old, killing over 300 children and 47 adults. All deemed corrupt by Fundamentalist Militia by bearing the blood of those in RAKI. Sons, daughters, nieces, nephews -- all set aflame from the just born to the near adult. The corrupt seed of the devil’s tree. And while the flames rose, K-Liberation simply watched, spouting hollow words of reproach against the brother party they shared a foundation with.

K-Liberation sought to bring about the return of Kira the God, while Fundamentalist-Kira sought to indoctrinate the Kira Philosophy in every society, and to eradicate every opposition. The latter differing from the former by not believing it necessary to wait for Kira’s physical return.

I swallowed and then approached, bracing myself. The staleness of the air I tasted on my tongue, as Makka’s words beat on my eardrum.

"There's one way. To prevent mayhem one must rewrite History." Makka leaned against the center pillar as I crossed the inner door’s threshold -- the dank smell of the pipes rose as I steeled my countenance, their poison not as infectious as the sulfurous vulgarity arising from the sewers below. Those against the K-Philosophy lived underground, the breeding grounds for maggots and rats. The hot trenches of human filth.

"What'cha mean? Cross out the pages in the history books and write 'It Never Happened' in black Sharpie?" Hair brown and colored black with charcoal, Nyukkyu lit an opium-lined cigarette and let it dangle between his lips, the billows of smoke adding a new, yet just as rotten, haze to the atmosphere. His yellow-contact eyes seemed to burrow into Makka’s, like licking flames.

"No, you dumbass --"

"I know, it means to sniff the fumes of the Sharpie until all our brain cells melt and slip out our ears." The spiked hair boy sitting beside Nyuk laughed and guzzled down the liquid in a glass bottle marked gin, before laying it on the table littered with needles and syringes.

"Fuck, you two....any decent conversation...."

"Chill, Makka, how’d you rewrite history? Just like what Jez’s just said, it’s impossible. It already happened. Done. Over. Finished. The future isn't worth shit either. Just wait and those rats above will nuke themselves. Then it's a free barbeque."

"That's just sick." Makka grimaced, yet the sides of her lips twitched upwards.

"Though it'd be well served."

Jez fell from his stool in a hysterical fit at Nyuk's response, his laughter rising up as Nyuk sniggered sheepishly and asked: "What did I say?"

"Well deserved, Nyuk. Revenge may be a dish well served cold, but people are not for eating."

"Oh yeah? Then why did Gina taste so de-lish-ous last night?"

Jez, who'd just sat back on the stool to drink another swallow of gin, fell back to the floor, the bottle joining him. Makka's face flushed crimson as she hurried to another table.

"Finally, she goes to spout her nonsense to the feebleminded -- leaving those who know it's hogwash to live ignorantly under our ecstasy." Nyuk inclined his head forward, emphasizing his last word by popping a white pill in his mouth and swallowing it dry. He turned to me and smirked, leaning back on his chair -- its front legs off the floor.

"Where's Lawliet?" I asked, picking up a lit joint from the counter and inhaling one mouthful. I held it in and then released. The billows floating from my lips as my charcoal eyes fell on the bleached white hair of Lawliet standing, back against the far corner. Her eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

"Who'd name their daughter Lawliet? It's weirder than your name Justice." Nyukkyu asked with a slight smile -- with a name pronounced as Nuke-You, he had the funniest name out of us four. I placed the joint back on the counter and headed toward the bleached-haired Lawliet, the old joke burbling in my thoughts.

Once when we had upset the K-Officer Corps, and we fled from their guns, Jez had catcalled back at them.

‘What’cha doin? Don’t’cha know we have Law and Justice on our side?’

I chuckled bitterly at the one-liner that became our slogan, though in the heat of mischief it never failed to provide a catharsis and pumped adrenaline through each of us.

“Lawliet, you’re here.”

Lawliet Y. POV

Broken glass bottles littered the roads and the heavy stench of stillness reached my nose; beside me the stagnant puddles and ponds lifted their odors upward, like a call to heaven. The call heavenward that perpetually went unanswered. Behind sunglasses my cyan eyes gazed at the charred brick and concrete of skyscrapers that once held grandeur, but held the mere shadows of their former victories. I overheard stories once, about how the land once held bustles of people overflowing with energy and purpose; that once this stagnant world held the faint allure of hope and future, the ability to change imperfections and craft them to a shine.

I picked up an amber-colored shard, the remains of a beer bottle, and tossed it up, catching it with ease as it came back down. Its edges shined as the daylight touched it, the pale rays glinting on the amber shard -- the keen edge of glass seemed strangely beautiful as I watched it under the sun’s caress. I turned away and heard the glass hit the asphalt, my feet shuffling as I stepped into the shadowed alley between two buildings. My graying black trench coat swayed with every footstep, blending into the shadows like blood mixing in blood. Perfect. Indistinguishable.

“Where’s Lawliet?” I heard the words roll from a familiar tongue as I descended the stairs peeking out from the alley’s end; the scents of opium and alcohol permeated the air though I hardly noticed the change from the rotten air above. I ran my fingers through my bleached hair, and leaned against the doorway as I drunk in the homely scent; the scene before me familiar and calm, even as the shadows suffocated the corners and walls.

Three teen boys sat at the table next to the bar, between two pillars that stood on the north and south points. One lay guzzling a clear bottle of gin on the floor, his spiked hair limp and red, signs of recent laughter on his face -- that was Jez, the prodigal son of K-Liberation parents who finally decided money was worthier than blood. At least that’s the story he told. Beside him, still sitting on a stool and smoking a cigarette lined either with meth or opium, another prodigal son sat; brown hair darkened artificially by charcoal, and contacts lending a flaming yellow to his eyes, Nyukkyu sneered.

“Who’d name their daughter Lawliet? It’s weirder than your name Justice.” Nyuk laughed and took a long drag from his cigarette, turning his eyes from his addressee to peer across the room. The table he eyed seated with women enjoying their drinks.

“Lawliet, you’re here.” I leaned disaffectedly still against the door threshold -- my arrival made through the back-entrance of the underground bar. Each syllable of my name strangely foreign yet beautiful on my eardrums.

‘Probably the opium muddling the air.’ I thought as the third teen approached, his black hair hanging straight down to his shoulders and eyes a misty gray. This one’s name was Justice, the only living survivor of the Cry Hope Orphanage Massacre.

“Yep, and I got some good information too. Seems it is true that K-Liberation has dissension within its ranks, and the threat is enough to cause it to split in two or more weaker groups.”

“How is that good? It just means that Fundamentalist-Kira will have a chance to steal power, and someone who acts on their beliefs is more dangerous than someone who just sits and waits for an act of god.” I side-glanced at the owner of the voice, Makka’s red hair greeting my vision, while I heard Nyuk scoff.

“No one asked your opinion, Mak-ka Fak-ka!”

“It’s true though, any division within a party will only give the other party that much more strength.”

“If you’d let me finish, Makka,” I waited until she pursed her lips before continuing. “The dissension within K-Liberation is because there’s a growing concern that Fundamentalist-Kira has been too drastic in its measures against RAKI. It’s been 16 years, but people are finally voicing anger against the Cry Hope Massacre and the other opposition-cleansing techniques. And one of the groups threatening to break away has declared its willingness to talk about peace with those in the non-radical factions of RAKI.”

A sudden hand grabbed my trench-coat collar, and a fist collided with my cheek; my shades clattered on the floor as I hit the doorframe. My head screaming in pain.

“What the fuck….” I rubbed my scratched and reddened skin, as I focused on my assaulter. Above me Justice glared vehemently into my cyan eyes, his ash irises gleaming with seldom expressed violence; he still held he fist ready to strike.

“Never. Never speak of peace between RAKI and Kira’s followers again. It’s enough having Makka spout that nonsense, but you….” He shook his head, the disbelief holding his fist at bay, until I saw something snap within his eyes. Once more he grabbed my collar and punched me in the jaw -- this time his hold on my collar remained strong, and as I spit blood on the floor I heard him ready another blow.

“Yo! Justice, that’s enough!” Nyuk pulled him away, prying my collar free from his grip, as I backed against the wall for support. Adrenaline pumped through me, but I held back from retaliating -- any violence from me would seal my exile.

“No, there can never be peace between RAKI and Kira! That you dare voice that possibility, Lawliet, shows just how much your dalliances with the enemy has corrupted you -- to say such an alliance could be good…god….” Justice ground his teeth as he failed to escape Nyuk’s grip, his retaliation spewing forth in words. “If you believe that leave! Go join this precious alliance! Go get fucked over by those hypocritical backstabbing idiots!”

“Justice, calm the fuck down.” I wiped the blood from my lip, my right fist shaking at my side -- stuck between it and the wall. “Don’t shoot the messenger, damn it.”

‘If only you knew what I do, what I’ve found out…. There is a way to change things, it just takes time and connections….’

“Lawliet, I think you should leave. Give Justice some time to calm down.” Nyuk nodded toward the exit, still holding a silent but struggling Justice. “Jez, Makka, you two leave as well. I’ll meet up with you later.”

Nyuk dragged Justice behind the bar and into a back room, as Jez stood, leaning against Makka as the argument sobered him up. Jez’s hazel eyes searched for my cyan ones -- beseeching me to say something against the alliance. I had no words. The alliance was necessary in ways I couldn’t explain yet. In the heavy silence I picked up my shades and retreated outside, my hand brushing against the notebook hidden under my shirt.

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