[prologue: it begins anew]

It was 11:20 A.M. in St. Petersburg, Russia. The world's greatest detective sat hunched over a laptop, his eyes scanning over the list of names his assistant, Watari, sent him moments prior. In the last twenty-four hours, Kira had killed two-hundred eighty-seven criminals in nineteen countries. L frowned; things had been going on like this since the Kira murders began six years ago.

If the trap had worked, he would be in bars by now, L thought bitterly to himself, the memory of his failed baiting attempt hitting him like a blow. He had underestimated Kira; the mass murderer was smarter than he had given him credit. For six years, L could only assume that Kira had baited him on multiple occasions with false leads all around the globe. The detective could hardly remember the names or faces of the police chiefs he had worked with worldwide; men from the United States, England, and Brazil, women from Germany, France, and Russia. They were of little help, and Kira was in none of those countries after all; the moment he thought he had identified a suspect, a more convincing lead would show up in another hemisphere, begging for his attention.

After years of work and thought, L came to the conclusion that this game was not one he could win alone. No, L thought somberly, I need other brilliant minds to help me solve this case. I know just the people for the job...

L pulled a cell phone from his pocket, pressing a button and holding it to his year. "Yes, Watari? Get Roger on the phone."

It was 8:23 in London, England when L called the head of Wammy's House. Roger, an elderly, bespectacled man, sat behind a desk, his eyes wide at the comments and requests being made by L. "A-are you sure?" he stuttered. "But they are still so young! They're hardly out of their teens yet-" He winced at L's tone over the phone. "Yes...yes, I understand. I-I'll inform them immediately." Roger looked at the phone after L ended the call and immediately summoned three of the orphans to his office.

At the ages of nineteen and seventeen, Mello, Matt, and Near were the oldest children at the Wammy's House and by far the most intelligent. "As you well know," Roger told the three of them from behind his desk, "you are all three in the running to become L's successor. But as of now, your coursework and intelligence training are of no importance. L is flying in from St. Petersburg tomorrow and the three of you will be joining him on the Kira investigation."

A hush fell over the young adults as they processed what Roger was saying; Matt put a cigarette to his lips and lit it. "So...this is it?" Mello asked, his voice cracking halfway through the sentence. "Is L not going to choose a successor at all?"

"There is no doubt he will be observing the three of you as you work this case," Roger clarified. "For now, though, you should focus on trying to help him solve the Kira investigation, not winning his favor.

"When he arrives, he will be setting up his base of operations here until he can find another lead on the case. In the past six years he has traveled a lot; the United States, Brazil, Turkey. It goes without saying that you may have to travel as well. You are now responsible for catching the most notorious serial killer the world has ever seen; L is certain that you are up to the task, and you should not let him down."

At 3:26 A.M., a cell phone rang in a Manhattan apartment. Groaning, a young woman reached to grab it, her husband of five years rousing from his sleep at her side. Naomi Misora picked up her cell phone, answering the call. "Hello?"

"Greetings, Miss Misora... or should I say Mrs. Penber, now?"

Naomi sat straight up in bed, a slight gasp escaping her lips; Ray Penber rose slightly as well, looking at her in surprise. "Naomi, who the fuck is that? It's three in the morning."
"Mrs. Penber is accurate," Naomi responded, her voice still thick with sleep. "I wish you would have called at a better time, though."

"Ah, my apologizes. Sometimes I forget that Manhattan and St. Petersburg are not in the same time zones."

"St. Peters...what?" her brow winkled in confusion and she slid her legs over the edge of the bed, her eyes fixated on the dark curtain in front of her. "Nevermind where you are. What is it that you need from me? I haven't heard from you in years."

"What I need is your intelligence. Your quick wit and your skills of deduction. As much as it pains me to admit it, I cannot solve the Kira case on my own. And though three potential successors of mine are helping me, this team won't be complete without your brand of deduction. I will expect you in London in four days, no later than 3 P.M. on the fourth day."

"In case you haven't forgotten, I'm no longer an agent. I am simply a housewife now."

L chuckled on the other end of the line. "Simply a housewife? Why Naomi, I never thought you'd give up on your passion so easily. You surprise me."

Naomi scowled, a growl resonating low in her throat. "And I assume you're paying for airfare?"

"Without a doubt. Your boarding passes will be in your email momentarily."

"You are stubborn as ever," Naomi grinned, her frustrations with her former coworker melting away. "I suppose I will be seeing you in four days."

"Wonderful. I will make sure arrangements for your arrival are made. Until then."

Naomi looked at the phone as the call ended, astounded by the conversation that had just transpired between herself and the world's greatest detective. She slinked back into bed, her husband's arm encircling her waist. "Who was that?" he asked, turning his head to look into her eyes.

She deadpanned. "It was L."

At 5:12 P.M. in Tokyo, Japan, Light Yagami sat in the police headquarters, watching as a recent arrest had his mugshots made. Shimura Toshiaki, Light murmured to himself, pulling the pin on his watch three times. This man deserves to die.

The mass murderer known as Kira looked without pity at the teenage boy who had recently been arrested for drug possession-the same boy who pulled out a gun and shot Soichiro Yagami in the arm. He harmed my father, Light ground out in his mind as he placed his pen to paper. He could have just as easily killed him. There is no room for someone like him in such a perfect world.

Shimura Toshiaki.

Light watched as Toshiaki was led to be fingerprinted. In forty seconds, the man would die, and Light could rest knowing he avenged his father's injury. Kira smiled as his latest victim clutched his chest, unceremoniously falling to the ground.

Little did he know that one murder was all it took to encite a game of cat-and-mouse he had avoided for six years.