My Own Way 09 DO NOT FAV

Matt first learned about it on the EHC forum.    He was talking Silver through a patch on his worm, when a sudden increase in traffic on the main chat server alerted him to the fact that another of the Names had arrived.    He checked.   It was Bubbles.    A fluffy name for someone who could access as many places and advance the Great Cause as much as she could.    'Ohai Bubbles.'   He typed.

'Mariomatt!'    She replied, not surprised to find that his on-line status was set to 'invisible'.    They both took a perverse enjoyment from the ripples of excitement that passed through the less accomplished ranks of the other chatters.   Two of the world's best hackers were present and conversing amongst them.    Matt's screen instantly filled with so many PMs that he had to let Silver know that he would be right back.   He didn't answer any of them, just set himself to non-receipt of private messages.   'Have you heard the news?'   Bubbles was typing in the main chat channel.    It instantly rose to the top and was lost.    

Matt sighed.    He opened his preferences again and clicked to ignore all but Bubbles and Silver.    'Heard what??'  He typed back.

There was a long pause.   He lit a cigarette and waited.    Bubbles typed back.   'Mariomatt!  Unsociable phucker!   Everyone wants to know if you have your public switched off.'

'Yeh.'   He typed back, knowing that all the world could read it.    

There was another long delay, before Bubbles wrote again.   'Noob alert!   If that's what you think free access is about, you are in the wrong forum, sweetie.'    Then, 'Mariomatt, switch public back on and explain the Hands On Imperative to this noob.'

'Rather not.'    Matt grinned in real life.   'If the noob is worthy, he'll find out for himself.'    He liked Bubbles.   She had a directness that was unflinching, but hid it under friendliness to everyone and anyone.    They forgave her anything.   Said noob was probably creaming his pants as they spoke, because Bubbles had spoken to him.    'Bubbles, GTIS?'   It was a personal shorthand for 'go into the inner sanctum?'    Their way of being able to speak without being mobbed.

'>'   Bubbles responded.   'Put public back on, Mariomatt.    Don't worry, people, I'll tease him out of his corner.'

Silver responded with 'LOL'.    Silver was one of the newest members of the eponymous Elite Hackers Consortium.   He had only been allowed into the higher level forums after first hacking into them, which was quite impressive given that CrashnBurn and Mariomatt had written the firewalls.    In fact, it was Silver's invasion which had recently set the criteria for entry, which was to hack into it.    Until then, there was no intention of letting another soul in.    It was the twelve of them and that was it, plus Silver.    He still seemed downright overwhelmed at being hailed and welcomed by such illustrous names.    

Matt typed.  'Bubbles, wot's teh nooz?"

'Put public back on and I'll tell you.   I'm the champion of these people and they wub you Mario.'

Matt laughed and used a second laptop to log into the inner sanctum.    Bubbles and Silver were both in there too, laughing over the conversations on the main board.    Matt typed.  'Beeeetch!'

Bubbles's response was instanteous.   'Mariomatt, I dare you to switch public on and film your monitor, then post it onto the board.    You appear in public less than I do.   It should be something to see.'

CrashnBurn was around too.   He typed.  'R u cock-teasing the noobs?'

Matt responded.  'Don't blame me, I'm just helping Silver with his worm.'

'I love how you hear 'cock-tease' and immediately think we're talking about you, Mariomatt.'    Bubbles typed back.    'LOL'   Matt wasn't sure how to reply to that, so he didn't.    Bubbles already suspected he was gay.   He didn't know about everyone else.    On the main forum, Bubbles wrote, 'Oh Mariomatt, it's time to come out.'    

Matt bit his lip and typed into the inner sanctum.    'What's your news?'    He was expecting to hear about a particularly audacious hack.    Bubbles had already asked for some intriguing advice several times amongst their ranks, enough to pique all their collective attention, but she was being very secretive about the operation.    

'Oh!  It's not that important.   In fact, it's a bit over-hyped now.     I just saw on the news, all the Mafia members in America are being killed by Kira.    Hundreds of them dead in every state.'

Matt's blood ran cold.   He had always thought that was just a saying, until it happened to him right there and then.    He immediately logged into a news channel and watched the carnage unfold.    Whole cities paralysed with the emergency services over-stretched to the point of breaking.    Body bags piled up in mortuaries; widows sobbing; news crews interviewing each other as the laws of omerta robbed them of Mafia statements.    The infamous families toppling one by one.    He knew that he should never use the mobile 'phone to contact Mello, but this was surely an emergency.    Mello could already be dead!    He hesitated to call though, instead he texted.   'Mafia pwnt by Kira.  Check news.  U ok?'   He pressed send.    A moment later, a read receipt was texted back.     Matt breathed again.   

Out in the San Fernando Valley, Mello texted back a thank you and pulled his laptop out of his bag.    He flicked through the news channels and bit thoughtfully on his chocolate.   Kira might just be saving him the trouble of extracating himself from the gang.    Kira needed to know faces and names in order to kill and Mello knew that neither of these vital pieces of information were available for himself.    However, as he glanced around the room, he knew that most, if not all, of his colleagues were known.    They had been pinched enough times that all it took was a thorough search of the on-line court records.    In fact, the conviction of Mafioso always made the newspapers.    It was an interesting possibility that he might just be able to walk over a carpet of corpses, which he hadn't caused himself, to gain his objectives without a single further blemish upon his soul.     He could just pick up the Death Note, meet up with Matt and use Kira's own carnage as the stepping stone to catching the killer himself.    It felt like a sign from God that Mello was on the right path.    Let the judgement commence.

"Who was that texting you, Mello?"    Greg called across the room.

Mello fixed him with a grin.  "Apparently trouble with the Batinellis.   I've asked for more information before I tell Rod about it."    He switched his laptop to a view of four of the monitors and placed it on the table.    The demon, Sidoh, still sat outside the entrance.    His presense unsettling, a reminder that Heaven and Hell did exist and that Mello was damned.   But if so, he would go out fighting in a blaze of glory.     He refused to allow the demon to unnerve him further.   "Where's the Death Note?"

"Rod has it.   Why?   You thought of something else?"

"Maybe."   Mello smirked enigmatically.     "But no-one talk to me.   I need to think."    He turned his attention to the statue of the Virgin on the mantelpiece above his chair.  He wasn't actually praying, but it reinforced the message that he should be left alone.    Things were becoming very interesting.

Back in the cyber community of the EHC, conversation was rife about the Mafia deaths.    Matt had switched on his public chat, though only to secretly read, not to announce the fact that he could.    In the inner sanctum, they were already bored by it and so were discussing Silver's worm.   However, other members had announced the tidbit in the main forum.     The consensus was 'good riddance to bad rubbish' and some of them were being quite candid about suspected Mafioso operations in their areas.  MBDetroit had actually witnessed a murder in a strip club where she had worked; Ahlol talked of protectionism in his/her city; and PFWFG had had a brother given a permanent smile by a Mafia thug.    It was violence stark and raw.   It was forcing Matt to really see what his friend was mixed up in.   

He stepped away from the computer, remembering Mello's instructions to be ready to go at a moment's notice.     He had no suitcases nor bags beyond the carrier bags from various shops.    He fetched them out now and started packing.    There wasn't much to go into them, just the games and their consoles really.    He set about returning the latter to their boxes, disconnecting cables and unplugging wires.     He wrapped them in blankets from the airing cupboard, then bundled them into the largest blanket of all.   It resembled laundry by the time he carried them down to his car and stashed them into the boot.    The room looked even emptier without them.    He glanced at the computer.   The EHC public forum were still being opinionated about criminal gangs in general; many expressed the view that Kira was becoming their hero.   It was sickening, but others were shouting them down.     He glanced at the clock.    It was nearly midnight.    He considered disconnecting all of the computers too, but that felt too much like unplugging himself.     The news channels said that the killings were still going on.    He picked up the mobile 'phone again, desperate for news, but the memory of Mello's rage stopped him.    The waiting was going to be the death of him.    He sent another text.   'God bless you.'     It might just confuse Mello enough to respond without anger, after all, Matt didn't even believe in God.

In a room in the San Fernando Valley, Mello heard his 'phone signal the alert from where he had left it on the desk.    He even guessed who it would be from, but it was far too late to respond to it now.    The room was full of Japanese policemen pointing guns at him and all of his Mafia family now were dead.    It seemed that Kira had special attention for this little gang that far outpaced what was happening to his friends all over the States.    They were giving him one last chance to surrender.   They should have shot him.     His mind calculated the blast range, as he peered out from the side of his gas mask's wide eyeholes.    The room wasn't so secure with the door open, but needs must when the Devil called.    The detonator in his hand would explode the bombs which would destroy the building in which he stood.    There was no choice.   It was all or nothing.    He pressed the button.

In the split second before the world went mad, Mello began running.    Everything went into slow motion.  He slid beneath the desk and cowered, as a sound so loud that it was almost silent filled the universe.  The sheer heat of it was shocking, but he was ready and he was unhurt.    He had seconds, minutes at the most, before the dust settled enough for any survivors to rise and find him.    He had to move.    Mello crawled half out from under the desk, but he was practically blind.   The dust and raining ashes fell onto his mask, covering the perspex eyeholes.    They weren't designed for this.    He would be better off without.   All this crossed his mind in the half a second it took to manoeuvre his way out, into the room.  It was intact but looked like a scene from Dante's Inferno.   The smoke so thick that he could see no bodies through it.   His ears ringing so much that he couldn't hear their groans or cries for help.    

Mello's mobile 'phone was still flashing with the received text message.   He picked it up, but it was red hot and he dropped it.   It fell under the desk again.    "Damn it!"   He scurried under again, tearing off his gas-mask to see it better.    He pulled it out, ready this time for the heat, which wasn't so bad that he couldn't hold it.   He noticed his gun on the floor and reached for that too,  but his elbow caught the opened drawer above it to his left.    It was burning, its bottom already gone,  and Mello's touch exploded the drawer in a seering rain of scorched timber across his face, on his shoulder and along his arm..   The corner of it was still intact, it caught on his shoulder, flaming further into his face, burning along its length to melt the flesh of his chest and back.    Too shocked to scream, Mello shook it from him and obeyed his instinct to just run.   Run, run and get the Hell out of there.    

The smoke was already clearing and the building was in ruins.   Mello replaced the gas-mask as he sprinted away, jolting as it hurt where it touched, but he was at the brickwork.    He climbed and jumped the remaining few feet, landing with feline precision.    Something was wrong, something was badly wrong, but the adrenaline was high and the world still in black and white, slow motion.   He had all the time in the world.    It was almost euphoric.   He could hear someone screaming in pain, but there was nothing he could do for them.   It was every man for himself, as he charged through the flames, leaping over debris, out into the smoke-infested wasteland of the valley beyond.     It was only out there, still clutching his phone to himself and finally failing to the protests of his lungs, that he realised he could still hear the screaming.    Only then did it occur to him that he was the one screaming and that his body was a riot of agonising pain.   But Mello still had the 'phone and there was someone out there in the City of Angels who did actually care if he lived or died.    He lifted off the gas-mask, throwing it aside as he dropped to the blessed coolness of the earth and he made the call.