Prelude to the Endgame

The smell of gunpowder. The smell of blood. And a man's ragged, burning breaths, on the verge of collapse.

He stood there, blocking the blasted doorway, like a beast that had escaped a trap, covered in wounds yet all the more dangerous. The muzzle of the Colt Python was terrifyingly steady, aimed straight between my eyes. In his bloodshot eyes, rage and some shattered anguish tangled wildly, almost spilling out.

"I! Told! You!"

"I! Found! You!"

Every word seemed to burst through his clenched teeth after being ground to pieces, hoarse with blood and the scrape of metal.

Ryuk let out a sharp, wildly excited hiss from the corner. His enormous body trembled slightly with anticipation, his crimson eyes darting madly between us as though awaiting the start of a feast.

I didn't move. Even the rhythm of my breathing stayed unchanged. My gaze calmly met the muzzle almost touching the tip of my nose, and the twisted face behind it.

Time seemed to freeze.

One second. Two seconds.

His index finger on the trigger trembled slightly from the sheer force he exerted, its knuckle white.

The third second.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I curled the corners of my mouth upward. A curve utterly devoid of warmth.

"So," my voice rang out with startling steadiness in the deathly silent, gunpowder-filled room, "you're late."

His pupils abruptly contracted! He seemed not to have expected that response. A tiny crack appeared in his overwhelming rage.

"Your 'system,'" I continued, speaking slowly, each word striking like an icicle, "while you were blundering around out there like a blind idiot, just... voted to shut itself down."

My gaze shifted slightly, sweeping over the news bulletin about a "suspected minor earthquake" on the nearby screen before returning to his face.

"Did you hear that muffled boom?" I asked softly, with a barely perceptible trace of mockery. "Didn't it sound like... a gun salute at your funeral?"

His breathing abruptly stopped for an instant! The color drained visibly from his face, replaced by an ashen, incredulous despair. He clearly knew what that "muffled boom" meant. It was ten thousand times worse than the worst outcome he had imagined.

"...No..." An almost inaudible breath escaped his throat. The hand holding the gun wavered imperceptibly.

"And you," I gave him no chance to catch his breath, my voice still steady but bearing down harder, "you're standing here now, with that... ridiculous toy of yours."

My gaze settled on the Colt revolver, my contempt undisguised.

"What are you trying to do?"

"For that 'system' of yours that already killed itself..."

"...Carry out its final, invalid command?"

"Or,"

I leaned forward slightly, my forehead almost touching the cold barrel, and stared straight into his utterly bewildered eyes,

"do you just want a witness,"

"to watch you..."

"...Fail one last time?"

BANG!!!

The deafening gunshot erupted again! It almost tore my eardrums apart!

But he missed!

The bullet skimmed past my ear and slammed into the wall behind me, throwing up a cloud of gray-white dust!

He had fired! Under the unbearable provocation and humiliation, rage consumed him, and he pulled the trigger! But that same rage ruined his aim!

Almost at the instant the shot rang out!

I moved!

Not away, but forward! I whipped my hand upward and slammed the Death Note's hard black cover into his gun wrist!

CRACK!

A sharp crack! Accompanied by his grunt of pain!

The Colt revolver flew from his hand in a silver streak, struck the far wall, and bounced onto the carpet.

Clutching his wrist, he staggered back a step, his face a mixture of searing pain, shock, and even deeper fury! He had never expected me to fight back, much less like this!

I had already taken advantage of that momentary loss of balance to step back and put distance between us again. The black notebook rested firmly in my hand, like a shield-or an even deadlier weapon.

Only his ragged, agonized breathing and Ryuk's irrepressibly excited, low cackling remained in the room.

"A toy..." He stared at me, the madness in his eyes almost taking physical form. "You called it... a toy?!"

"What else?" I watched him coldly and gave the notebook I had struck his wrist with a shake. "Compared to this, isn't it?"

I raised the Death Note in my hand, its black cover gleaming ominously in the dim light.

"You spent so long investigating,"

"so long living in fear,"

"even raging over the collapse of your pathetic system..."

"Wasn't it all..."

"...For this?"

His gaze fixed on the notebook, his breathing growing faster, filled with unconcealed greed, fear, and a twisted longing.

"Now it's right in front of you."

"And you,"

"aren't even worthy of touching it."

I watched him, this man who had lost his system, lost his reason, and even lost his gun.

"Mentor,"

"or... should I call you something else?"

"Your game,"

"your calculations,"

"your Sigma..."

"All end here."

"Now,"

"it's time for judgment."

"But the ones being judged,"

"aren't them."

"It's..."

I deliberately paused, my gaze piercing his utterly defenseless soul like the coldest ice.

"...You."

The instant the words left my mouth.

Every expression on his face-rage, pain, madness, greed-froze at once. In their place came something absolute, rising from the depths of his soul...

Fear.

The curtain on the endgame,

had just risen.