Two whole days had passed when I received a text from an unknown number, giving me the address of another hotel - different from the last one I'd visited - and a time.

Today, 10:00
Please make sure to be on time.

Staring at it through half-lidded eyes, I'd barely comprehended the message when I read it. I was still half asleep. He'd texted me at eight in the morning. By that point, I still had my head buried in the pillow, drool and all. Does he really expect me to be up and at it at that time? Ha. Unlikely.

When I finally came to and realised this message had been sent by my new detective boss-buddy, I all but scrambled out of bed, flinging clothes out of my wardrobe, searching for suitable getup. I'd be meeting new people today, meaning I'd have to pin myself up for yet another important first impression. I'll admit, first impressions were pretty trivial in the grand scheme of things, but I worried about what I looked like regardless. I'm only human. After a good few minutes of rummaging, I began to question why my fashion sense was so radical. God, I really needed to grow out of my teenage phase - and fast. There was no way I was walking into Kira headquarters wearing a low cut shirt and ripped shorts. No chance.

I tugged out a similar outfit to the one I'd worn to meet L, plonking them in a heap on the bed as I hauled ass to the bathroom, grabbing my phone in the exchange. Turning on the lights, my first instinct was to look in the mirror and assess the night's damage, and I cringed almost immediately.

Let's see... Blemished face. Dead fish eyes. Bedhead. Bird's Nest. Yeah. All in all, pretty shit.

Phone back in hand, I dialled Chris and switched it onto speaker phone. The man in question picked up after a few dial tones and began chortling almost instantly, mockingly. "Christ, you're up early. What happened? Armageddon?"

"No," I grumbled, angrily attacking my hair with a brush. "I'm meeting the task force today at ten."

Chris made a surprised sound. "Really? He messaged you?"

"Yeah, about half an hour ago."

There was a brief pause. "What's his number?"

I guffawed, likely shocking my associate with the sound. "Oh yeah, like it'd be that easy, Chris! It's an unknown number," I told him, shaking my head. "I haven't tried to find out, but it's probably also untraceable. L's far from an idiot and I doubt he trusts me yet; he wouldn't just hand me his number on a silver platter. In fact, I wouldn't put it past him to have more than one phone number."

"Hey, it doesn't hurt to ask!" Chris argued, voice adopting a more defensive tone. "I just wanted to know in case I ever have to call him up for you. Seriously, do you know how many contacts I went through to find this guy?"

"I'm sure you exercised the entire phonebook, Chris. I appreciate your efforts," I muttered distantly, smearing a layer of foundation across my face.

This response didn't seem to please my friend and he stubbornly kept his silence.

"What?" I asked, perturbed by his refusal to speak.

"I'm waiting..."

I audibly sighed but perked myself up, smiling to myself in the mirror as I swiped chapstick across my lips. "Thank you, sweetie! You're the best detective ever and I love you more than I love the Die Hard movies."

"Please, I already know I'm the best detective ever. You don't need to tell me that," he replied with a haughty scoff. "Anyways, you need a lift?"

I considered it for a moment, seeing as the new hotel was considerably further than the last one, but decided against it. I needed the exercise and Chris always chose to listen to crappy songs from the sixties; they irritated me. I didn't want to meet the task force with a huge scowl on my face. That expression didn't say 'friendly work associate'. That said 'angry hormonal teen with a motive to kill'. I didn't want to scar the poor fellas by showing them my true colours.

Not yet, anyway.

"Thanks, but I'll manage. If I get a move on, I can walk it and still be there on time," I told him, glancing towards the clock. "On that note, I'm gonna hang up now. Standby soldier."

"Hey!" Chris snapped before I could hang up the call. "Don't forget to chat me up today. Remember that I want onto this task force as well."

"Don't worry, I won't forget. If you're lucky, I might ask L if you can attend today's meeting. I've already given a bravado about your dedication to work and besides, he already has the dirt on you. He knows how awesome you are."

"Okay, no worries." There was a pause. "Wait, what?!"

Like I'd just told the greatest punchline in all history, I began to chuckle at the growing concern in Chris' voice. If I was a decent human being, I would've told him that I was in the same boat and that he had nothing to worry about.

Unfortunately for him, I was not a decent human being.

"Well, I'll see you later!"

And with that, I ended the call, cutting off Chris' loud, unintelligible blabber and undoubtedly sending him into a state of ceaseless panic. I smirked at the thought of Chris running around like a headless chicken and allowed amusement to calm my nerves. He was going to hate me later, but did I care? Not at all.

Giving myself one last look over in the mirror, I decided I was somewhat decent and began to haul ass once more.

*     *     *     *     *

I stood in front of L's room door once again, hesitant to go in. Déjà vu much.

Questions ran through my head, ones that I couldn't answer myself. What if they don't like me? What if I embarrass myself? What if I don't live up to their expectation? I mean, I'm an agent from the States. God knows Hollywood has glamourised us to the extreme. We're also portrayed as being those superhuman geniuses who can solve the most difficult crimes without breaking a sweat (yeah, we have Mission Impossible to thank for that). I definitely did not live up to that ludicrous image. I wasn't even close. From past experiences, I'm well aware that I come across as being incapable of having such a gnarly career, mainly because of how many times I've been told how young I look or how unprofessional my demeanour is. Yeah, not exactly the most flattering statements to hear when you're trying to do a serious job.

The more I pondered on these petty thoughts (and yes, they were petty), the more the nerves ate away at me. Eventually, I found myself curled up in a ball on the floor like a child, staring down at the carpet. I'd never been to school but I was pretty sure this is what sitting outside the Principal's office felt like.

With a grunt, I bashed my head against the wall a few times, emitting a loud bang that likely carried into the next room - not that I took any notice at the time. The sharp pain that resonated around my cranium was enough to shake off my initial nerves and convince me to get a hold of myself.

I could do this. I could face eternal damnation and I could do it with the confidence of a King. L, the head of the investigation, had already welcomed me onto the case. No one would dare question his judgement - and if they did, they were clearly stupid. The other members shouldn't care who I was or where I was from. We were all here to do one thing and that's to catch Kira. That's all there is - and all there ever will be - to it.

A newfound confidence flooding through me, I pushed myself to my feet and straightened out my clothes, my face brightening. Looking towards the hotel door I'd been curled up against, I raised my hand to knock. Before I could, however, the door was opened and a dark haired man poked his head around the frame, eyeing me curiously.

"Are you alright out here, Miss? We heard banging," the stranger asked, face full of concern.

Ah. Shit.

I laughed airily to ease the tension, but in actuality, I just wanted to scream. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just tripped."

I tripped? Really?

"Oh, alright then," he said cheerily, a smile crossing his features, becoming much more buoyant as he spoke. "Hey, aren't you the girl who's supposed to be joining the task force today? Because if you are—"

Before he could finish, the guy - whose name I was yet to learn - was pulled back with a yelp. Behind him, a middle aged man, face stern and serious, grabbed his shoulder and whispered (not so quietly) into his ear, "Quiet, Matsuda! You don't know this woman. You can't be telling just anyone about the investigation."

Not wanting the situation to escalate, and also partly because I was offended at already being doubted, I coughed loudly, disrupting the pair.

"I don't mean to eavesdrop but you don't have anything to worry about. I am, in fact, the new member of the task force. Actually, I was just about to knock on the door before I tripped and this lovely gentleman came to check on me."

I flashed a sweet smile towards the younger of the two (who I could now assume was called Matsuda) whom visibly blushed and went a little dreamy-eyed before forcing himself back to reality.

I looked back towards the older man, who appeared to have the superior authority here. Probably the head director or commissioner if I had to guess. He was a lot less kindly-looking than his younger colleague, with sullen eyes and an air of maturity about him, but I didn't let him put me off. Instead, I took a step closer to the pair, leaning on the frame.

"So," I drawled, forcing a smile. "Am I going to be allowed in?"

I motioned to the room and the pair exchanged looks. From the way their faces hardened, I could tell they were in agreement. Looking me over one more time, the pair stepped back into the room and allowed entry. I followed them inside the suite. This one was just as illustrious as its predecessor, and I still had to gawk at the extreme display of wealth that surrounded me.

The pair walked ahead, into the adjoining room, from which I could hear the sounds of tapping against a keyboard and a gentle masculine murmur. Stepping over the threshold, my eyes took in the scene before me:

There were seven figures in the room in total, myself excluded. All were grown men - which immediately put me on guard. As soon as I entered, all eyes in the room turned to face my form and stared at me as though I was an unexploded bomb. Trying not to appear disheartened, I smiled brightly and bowed as a sigh of greeting.

"Hey everyone. I apologise for being late. I got held up."

"Oh, we know," a familiar voice said from my right. "We heard the banging."

As I stared, I could feel the corner of my eye twitch but I absolutely refused to snap.

"Funny story, actually. I tripped, you see."

I chuckled bitterly at my own false story, still not believing that that was the first lie my brain could come up with. The detective didn't look up at me as he took a sip of the coffee beside him.

"You tripped six times?"

I narrowed my eyes, seething. Snarky son of a bitch, aren't we?

Trying to keep my anger in check, I hummed as a response - which wasn't really a yes or a no - and awkwardly stood in the middle of the room as the men continued to stare at this odd bit of banter between the detective and I. Before said detective could spout out another snide comment, the door to the room opened and an elderly man stepped forward, box in hand.

I moved aside to let him past, wondering just how desperate we were that L had decided to hire people five times my age for assistance. I didn't judge. But still. Damn.

The detective shifted on his chair, holding himself more upright. "Right. Well, I suppose now is as greater time as any to introduce you all." He held up a hand, gesturing to each individual officer as he spoke. "Agent, this is Shuichi Aizawa; Kanzo Mogi; Hideki Ide; Hirokazu Ukita; you've already acquainted yourself with Touta Matsuda, and that is Soichiro Yagami - the chief of police."

Matsuda threw me a childish wave, making me snicker. The others just nodded their heads as a greeting, which I returned.

"Oh, and that is Watari. My assistant." L continued, pointing at the male who had entered the room previously. The old man smiled at me, a grandfatherly sort of smile, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"A pleasure" I said lightly, taking a seat beside Matsuda, whom I felt the most relaxed with out of everyone here. Besides, he appeared to be the closest to my age anyway (excluding L). Maybe we'd get along.

"So, is Agent your real name?" The officer asked as I settled myself next to him. "It's a bit strange, if you don't mind me saying."

"Matsuda!" Yagami scolded, his tone sounding mildly appalled.

The younger man visibly flinched before sighing, looking down shamefully. "Sorry, sir."

"No, it's alright," I quickly defended. "I get asked that a lot. And to answer your question - no, it isn't. Although technically it sort of is, I guess. I'm not sure."

The poor man only became more confused as I spoke, eyes becoming incredulous. I sighed.

"Basically, guys, I don't have a real name."

All five officers looked to me wildly.

"What? You mean you don't have a name at all?" Aizawa asked, clearly shocked. Wordlessly, I shook my head. If it was possible, their eyes grew wider.

"So, you're basically saying that Kira can't kill you?" Ukita inquired, asking the key question, to which I nodded my head.

"I'm not 100% willing to test the theory but it does seem that way." I clarified, watching as the task force members exchanged looks of amazement.

"Woah!" Matsuda said breathlessly as he budged closer to where I sat, a huge excitable grin on his face. "Kira can't even touch you. That's incredible! You're so lucky."

L, now apparently tired of our small talk, stood up and stepped over to the small box Watari, who handed him a handful of police badges.

Oh, so will these be the new alias'? This'll be exciting.

I watched as he handed them out to their corresponding owner and each man pulled an amusing expression of bewilderment. Curious, I looked over to Matsuda's badge and saw the name printed on there didn't belong to him.

"Our names and ranks are false," Yagami said, stating the obvious.

"Why did you give us fake IDs?" Matsuda questioned, equally confused.

"As you are all aware, Kira requires a name and a face to kill," L said, taking a loud slurp of his tea. "We will confront him with that premise in mind and I think it should be obvious why."

"Yes, but of all people, surely the police shouldn't use fake IDs," Ukita argued, making a compelling - yet totally irrelevant - argument.

I stifled a laugh, murmuring under my breath. "Well, it's either this or plastic surgery. Your choice."

L looked over to me, a ghost of a smile playing on his pale features. Oh, so the detective does have a sense of humour. Excellent.

Pleased by this revelation, I smirked back at him. Aw, look, we're bonding. How sweet. Not as sweet as his coffee, but we're getting there.

"Enough," Yagami said chidingly to his subordinates. "What choice do we really have, given the capabilities of this killer? As long as we're working on this case, I think we're going to need all the protection one can get. It would be foolish not to use them."

Hurrah, someone with common sense! I take back what I said. I liked the chief now.

"Remember, anytime you're in a situation where you have to give your name to a stranger, make sure to use the name from your fake ID. Understood?" L asked as he took yet another sip from his coffee, earning himself a simultaneous affirmative from the officers. "However, do not use this frivolously. Only show your ID to members of the public when it is absolutely essential to do so.

"On that note, be careful not to take them out in the presence of other police officers. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that that would cause problems for us."

As the group inspected their badges more closely, I sat back in my seat, admittedly feeling a bit left out of this little gift exchange. I obviously didn't require an ID because of the fact I wasn't a police officer. It was highly unlikely that a stranger would need to ask my name or, in an even more unlikely scenario, need to see a form of identification. Besides, even if that did end up being the case, I brought plenty of variations of fake IDs that go under the name of the alias that I use in the States - Katherine Turner. From my passport to my driver's licence, I had it all written under that name.

My attention was diverted from my thoughts once again as Watari opened the small box he'd carried in with him. Straightening myself up, I leaned forward keenly, my interest piqued. Upon seeing what was in the box though, I frowned.

He wanted us to wear... belts? That was new.

We all stood, stepping over to see the notably masculine accessories in more detail. Watari continued to speak and explained the mechanics of the belt as we listened. "Each one has a transmitter hidden in the buckle. This will allow Ryuzaki to monitor your whereabouts. If you don't mind, I'd like to request that you wear these at all times."

My mind came to screeching halt as I processed that sentence. Hold the phone. Who's Ryuzaki? Glancing around for any helpful clarification, L caught my eye and gestured towards himself.

Ah, okay. Ryuzaki was L's alias. That would've been good to know earlier. Thanks a bunch, guys. So helpful.

"And when you press the buckle twice like this," continued Watari, demonstrating the procedure. "My cellphone will ring, displaying your name. I'll call you back immediately, but you won't see my number."

That... was actually really smart! Gee, I wished my orphanage had the funding to make stuff like that. Unfortunately for us, we're practically broke because of the amount of orphaned Americans that we take in from across the States and neighbouring countries.

Personally, I'd take the super belts over a bunch of whiny geniuses any day.

"In the morning, all of you - excluding Agent, of course - will go to the police station as usual. Later on in the day, we'll use this method to confirm the name of Ryuzaki's hotel and room number. Please use this for emergencies also," Watari concluded, handing out the accessories.

I was passed a belt and slipped it on, thanking whatever Gods there were that I wore my jeans today; my other trouser's didn't have belt loops (female fashion designers were so impractical). That would've been embarrassing.

"No way! This is so cool. I feel like I'm some sort of secret agent going after Kira!" Matsuda cried excitably as he hoisted on his belt, earning yet another scolding by his superior for being childish.

My eyes flickered over to him as he vomited apology after apology, eyes pinned to the floor. Poor thing. He was really having a tough time, wasn't he?

The more I listened to Matsuda, the more I realised that he was giving me serious Chis vibes. He reminded me of Chris when I'd first met him at the tender age of seventeen - the awkward time when he kept stalking me like the clingy grown man-baby he was. Even though he was undeniably a creeper, he was my best friend. More of a big brother really.

My eyes suddenly widened at my realisation.

Oh yeah. He still wasn't on the case. 

*     *     *     *     *

After a few minutes of discussion with L and about three pre-rehearsed persuasive lines later, my main man was officially on Kira's shitlist. It didn't take long. Over half of the population started quivering in their shoes at the mere mention of Kira. An even larger percentage would rather slam a car door against their face than try to take him down. We needed all the help we could get on this case, especially with brains like Matsuda's (no offence to him, of course. He was sweet but an idiot). With permission, I slipped away from the group and went into the other room, dialling my most called number.

"Pushover Hotline: where all doormats gather to be walked on. How may I help you today?" Answered Chris in a tone so serious, it made me snort. I bet he'd been practicing that all day.

"Well, you can help me by getting your fine ass over here. You're on the case, pushover."

The reaction I got wasn't one I was really expecting. There was a long, long pause, accompanied by extremely quite breaths. For a minute, I actually thought Kira had already got to him. That is, until the sound of loud and heavy movement flooded through the receiver, followed by Chris breathless voice, "I'll be there in twenty minutes!"

"Cool. Try not to crash, okay?" I joked, only then realising that he'd already hung up the phone in his excitement. With a shake of my head, I crossed back into the other room.

Barely fifteen minutes had passed before a knock was heard on the hotel door. Giddiness flooding through me, I looked over as Watari answered it and allowed a figure to step inside. Lo and behold, there stood Chris. His short bangs of blonde fanned his face as he turned to look at me, piercing green eyes finding my own.

"Hello stranger," I greeted, smiling smugly at his reaction.

"Hey," he replied quietly, looking around the room and its inhabitants with scarcely concealed awe.

I only then realised there were many pairs of baffled eyes upon us, likely wanting an explanation for this strange man's sudden appearance. Spinning in my seat, I brightened my expression and gestured behind me. "Everyone, this is Christian Doyle. He's my assistant and good friend who's agreed to help on this case. Chris, this is everyone."

He bowed politely to them, much like I had before, and began to introduce himself 101. I sat back and watched contentedly, listening to Matsuda excitably rant on to my friend about how cool it must be to work as an agent, and hearing my friend's equally enthusiastic replies. Looked like those two would be the best of friends - as I had anticipated. Unable to stop myself, I grinned.

This was going to be one hell of an investigation.