hey light who on the task force do you dislike most?
I don’t dislike anyone on the task force. They’re all hardworking people and I respect them very much. There is someone I’ve recently begun working with who’s been getting on my nerves lately, but I don’t think they count due to not being a member of the task force.
What do you think would happen if Matsuda listened to Light and shot everyone in YellowBox?
This is the perfect opportunity to post a snippet I have that I still haven't found a fic for...
Ide and Matsuda went out on their second night back in Japan at some bar near NPA headquarters that Matsuda always forgot the name of, and five drinks in, Matsuda’s tongue got looser than his lips.
“I’ve been wondering,” he said, “why’d he want my help?”
Ide blinked. “What?”
Matsuda gestured ineffectually. “Y’know. Light, in the warehouse. The hell did he think I could do for him?” He shrugged his own question off. “Eh, he was probably just desperate…I mean, Takada was dead already and he begged for her, he really lost his mind.”
Ide thoughtfully leaned his chin on his hand with a little quirk to his lips. He was used to going back there by now, as Matsuda treaded those boards again, over and over till they wore to nothing beneath his feet. “Well, let’s walk through it. You’re in the warehouse. You’re siding with Light. What do you do?”
“Lidner first,” Matsuda said immediately. He could see the scene like it was before him. He wasn’t usually good at visualization, but that warehouse was always there. It was easier to see than dismiss.
“Lidner?”
“Smallest target, I’d want to get her before she could move. And she wasn’t distracted by Mikami. Then…then the other guy. Near’s other guy. Rester, that’s the name. I could probably get both of ‘em before one of you shot me, but only with one shot each. So they probably wouldn’t even die, not if they got an ambulance fast enough. But that would’ve given Light time to write Near’s name.” He takes a swig of his drink. “Mikami would try something, and Gevanni would stop him — let’s say that keeps him busy; Mikami was handcuffed, but never underestimate the strength of crazy. Aizawa would kill me. You would get Light, or maybe Mogi would. Gevanni would get Mikami under control. Then medical attention for Lidner and Rester. Three to five casualties. Kira loses.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Ide said, gesturing like a keynote speaker. “Near’s team is dead or occupied. You anticipate us drawing our weapons and pull out your second gun —“
“Ide, I just had the one gun.”
“You slide across the floor, firing with each weapon —“
“That’s not how it works! Dual wielding’s just a movie thing, I’d miss every shot —“
“Dropping Aizawa and Mogi first, then me.”
“C’mon, Ide, I’d hesitate! That would have given you time.”
“Mmmmm, I don’t think you would. You didn’t hesitate to shoot Light, right? Once you decide a shot needs to be fired, you fire it.”
“Okay, fine. I do some John Wick shit, Near’s team is dead, you’re all dead, it’s just me and Light. And Mikami, I guess.”
“Light picks up the notebook and writes both your names,” Ide said. “That’s what he hoped would happen.”
They looked at each other for a long moment. Then they burst out laughing, high and bubbling like champagne, Matsuda slapping Ide’s shoulder as if he could sap Ide’s strength for himself.
“Our imaginary Light watches too many movies,” Ide said.
“Yeah, man, no kidding. D’you know I taught him to shoot a handgun once? First time he fired it he dropped it. Took three days before I gave up.”
“Okay, seriously, though,” Ide said. Matsuda’s smile turned like he’d tasted a lemon. “I think Light knew he couldn’t kill everyone there, even with your help.”
“So why tell me to shoot you? Why not give up? Just the desperate ravings of a doomed man, or…”
Ide shook his head. The amber light of his drink scattered onto his face like a sunset, and for a brief moment he was the brightest thing in the room. “No, I think he was trying to win.”
“Hm?”
“I’m no Ryuuzaki,” Ide said. “I don’t know Light — never knew how he thought, not really. But…in the end, he was trying to justify himself. Trying to prove that he was right.” He swirled his drink, and the sunset turned to water. “If you’d sided with him, it would have proved something. He’d still have died, but he’d have died vindicated.”
“Hm. Neat theory, but you’re forgetting something.”
“What?”
“Light never gave a shit about what I thought.”
“Maybe not,” Ide said. “But in the end, what you believed meant everything.”