#misora-n

[ amused ] 

Have you lost any sleep over it? Maybe had a nightmare or two of me crawling in through your bedroom window, a mass of burnt flesh eager to exact my revenge?

Misora, if I hated you, you'd know.

Did I want to wrap my hands around your throat when you drowned my life's work with a fire extinguisher? Did I want to crush your skull against the hard ground, and watch the life evaporate from your terrified eyes?

Yes.

But you have to understand, while that might communicate pure hatred from the normal person, I~ am the teeniest bit more complex. 

Real hatred isn't simple enough to form and evaporate - [ snaps ] - just like that. It has to boil, sear, and harden, like lava, into an ugly black lump on a person's soul.

L is the only person on Earth who has earned my hatred - and, wellll...look at how many people had to suffer for that. 

Do I only..."seem" to loathe L?Is there any doubt?

You want to know 'why'. Why, oh how, could B hate L? The World's Greatest Detective, savior of countless lives and solver of previously thought unsolvable cases - the man is incredible. A miracle, to us all. At leasssst...that's what the oh-so-informed masses came to think. 

But, Misora, you have a bit more experience with L than most. How close did you manage to get to him, I wonder? Did you hear his voice, synthesized or no? Could you have even met him, gone out to lunch, and had a meaningful one-on-one conversation?

[ smile ] 

Not that it would matter.

You could hear his voice, meet him, go out to lunch, have a meaningful one-on-one conversation and then bring him home to fuck, and you would still know nothing about L.

I envy you for that~

I hate L because I know him.

I met him as a letter on a pretty glowing computer screen like everyone else, and I was told my most ultimate goal in life, how I would determine my self-worth for the rest of my days, was to become that letter on the pretty glowing computer screen.

I didn't know anything about that letter exceeept that it was great. For all my young genius and capability, I couldn't be great on my own. I had to be L.

And that's all well and good for an adolescent eager to prove himself, until...he starts thinking. Thinking leads to wondering and the whole point of wondering is to realize. What I happened to realize was that the only difference between L and I~ was a letter. He was only great because of that letter, and there was nothing stopping me from becoming something better.

B could be great without L, and he would be.

Seeing the face behind the letter showed me I was already there.

L wasn't a man, but a child, curled up on his pedestal like some kind of bloated sloth. He didn't care about a single life he saved, but only if the circumstances endangering them were amusing. The world was a puzzle in his bony little fingers, and even while he radiated arrogance, selfishness, apathy, immaturity and feebleness, we all looked to him as a God.

But he wouldn't look at me.

Even me, who was closest to L, and already better than him in so many ways. But he never expected any of us would take his place. We were prototypes back then, built to fail, and I wouldn't be surprised if he considered himself immortal.

My feelings don't seem so unreasonable now, do they?

[ grins ]

((Starter for misora-n))

Flashing lights and pretty colors draw in corpses-to-be like moths. Scantily-clad women, free alchohol, and the promise of becoming a "winner" with the pull of a lever, traps them inside.

Beyond leaned back into the red lounger, smiling faintly. These people were being played far more than any slot machine, and the ex-con found it doubly amusing to watch their leaps of faith and falls into debt. 

Casinos - you could only really play if you knew what you were doing. Few people did, and B was one of them. Playing cards and their many tricks - exciting little games that he had been fond of since adolescence. Poker was the most fun, where your ability to read body language was more valuable than your hand...but blackjack, B had mastered.

Counting cards was hardly difficult with practice, but his acute mind made it all the more seamless, accurate, and unlikely to detect.  He didn't play for the money, although, it did keep him from having to maintain - God forbid - some mundane job. Beyond craved risk far more than the common man, but felt the need to exercise control and his advantages over others perhaps even more. 

The losses of those around him were always more satisfying than his gains. 

They always looked so shocked.

Something in the crowd caught B's peripheral. It was a feeling of recognition among the quick-passing faces in the large, hectic building. He dismissed it. The chances of him knowing someone here were slim to none.

Name of character: Naomi Misora

URL of character: http://misora-n.tumblr.com/