Bang

The first time Matt and Mello came face to face, the redhead was backed against a wall with a cold muzzle pressed under his chin. It rested in the spot almost directly under his mouth, forcing his head backwards as its owner smirked, pressing close, invading Matt's personal space and creating an uncomfortable sense of claustrophobia. Eyes wide and filled with surprise, he stared at the blond hellion holding him captive, quickly scanning his pale colored orbs for any show of mercy, or forgiveness.

There was none. Not a single dab, or even a smidgeon. Just cold, icy blue.  

Matt could lose himself in that blue, if he stared too long. They reminded him of the sea back home. He'd always loved going out to the coasts and watching the waves crash as a fresh wind swept through his air. Salt stung his mouth and eyes, and the water would splash up, soaking his clothes and stabbing like needles dipped in liquid nitrogen. It was scenic, and it was home. But there was no going back now, and probably wouldn't be for a long time, if ever. "……..what now?" Matt breathed in a small gasp of air, feeling the gun quiver under his jaw. As sad a thought as it was, maybe he didn't need the ocean. He could just stare into this stunning pair of eyes. They were as cold, vivid, and dauntingly blue.

"Give it up," Mello moved impossibly close, staring him down with that tempest gaze and smirking. There was a soft rustling as their clothes brushed, and Matt shivered, palms going slick as they grappled at the brick wall, the pitted surface scratching his flesh. "There's no escape. Don't even bother trying. I've got you cornered." Wrapping his finger around the trigger, Mello leaned close and drew the gun down the hollow of his throat, lightly stroking his sensitive pulse point. Strands of his golden hair tickled Matt's chin, they was so little space between them.

"There's always an escape. You just haven't noticed it yet." He retorted, staring back and trying not to look too intrigued. What kind of freak liked a guy just for his eyes? That was something right out of a Harlequin romance novel. Aka, something really gay and stupid. And he wasn't stupid. Maybe a bit game obsessed and unusual, what with his too red to be natural red hair and tightly strapped goggles. He wasn't a loved doped heroine though, and that was all that mattered.

The blond before him cocked a thin, finely shaped brow that Matt swore had to have seen a pair of tweezers, and his smirk brightened into a devilish smile. "You think so?" Tilting the gun back towards the sky, Mello watched him for a moment, as if trying to deduce whether or not he was serious, then laughed. "Nice try. I'm not stupid."

"Really? Aw, there go all my blond jokes," Matt quipped, and the gun thrust right back under his chin. It was freezing cold, almost as much as the droplets that started to fall from the sky, splashing his shirt and dampening the black and white stripes. "…it's raining."

"Way to point out the obvious."

Giving the blonde a dirty look, Matt turned his face up and let several of the refreshing dewdrops splash his forehead and cheeks. They soaked through the padded rims of his goggles, moving underneath and following the curve of his eye socket, finally beading on his lashes. He wasn't sure why he was hyper aware of every little movement, but he was, and Matt shrugged, deciding to embrace it. Whatever, right?

"…..we shouldn't be out here," he muttered after a few minutes, tasting the rain as it dripped into his mouth. "We'll get busted eventually."

Mello had also been watching the sky above. Several of his now saturated locks were plastered against his face, hugging the sharp curve of his cheekbones and giving his eyes a matte golden frame. "I'm not going anywhere," he turned his head back down; there were drops clinging to his lips, his jaw, and Matt followed a line of water as it roped down his long neck and soaked the black fabric near his clavicles. "Hey, are you listening to me? I said, I'm not going anywhere!" Mello growled when he didn't answer, and the gun came to a brutal standpoint at the side of Matt's head, brushing away his own soaked hair and nuzzling his scalp beneath. The action was a lot more intimidating than it seemed, especially since the act caused more than a few flashbacks for the redhead, who looked at the weapon with wide eyes, shivering slightly as icy rain dripped down his neck.

"……….so what? You just gonna keep me here? Get us both soaked?" His lips gave a small twitch. "Nice plan. Thought you were supposed to be some sort of super genius. 'Cause I gotta tell ya, I'm not seeing it."

A look of rage crossed Mello's face, coordinated perfectly with the crash of lightning overhead, and the rain started coming down harder in glistening sheets, completely soaking them both and making the gun glimmer a faint silvery white. "What did you say?" Mello jammed its muzzle into his head, twisting it sharply and making Matt grimace. "What did you say??" He seemed perfectly uncaring that he was getting soaked, focused only on Matt, and his unconscious attempt to drill through his skull with the dumb weapon. "Huh?"

Matt blinked, probably looking pretty stupid. Eh, he always did. Made a lot of people wonder how someone like him, his hands always locked around a DS, was so smart. "…..nice gun. Suits you. Didn't know you could paint them to look like that. Had to be a custom job, right?" Matt certainly thought so. Nobody had a gun like that. Pure silver with gold decorating the side and handle, and a cross dangling off the bottom, occasionally brushing his cheek and resembling a diamond as it winked and twinkled with tiny, wet beads. It looked too expensive for a place like this, and Matt had a quick flashback to the mafia movies he'd used to watch. Only the bad guys had guns like that. And it was the ratty looking guys like him that always got shot.

Mello seemed surprised for a moment, unsure, but his mouth remained in a tight scowl. Personally, Matt thought his face was too cute to pull it off. "…………what are you, a retard? Of course it's custom! I--it was a gift! Why does that matter?" He slapped his other hand against the wall, sleeves fluttering around his wrist in a small gust of rain and wind. Matt was trapped between his arms now, the taller frame of the blond boxing him in. Ha, now he really was trapped.

Glancing at the gun, then back at Mello, Matt cracked a smile. Just like the movies, what with the wall behind him all covered in moss and vines, and the ground turning to sludge beneath their feet. Filth and muck, the ancient remains that were iconic in the old school films. Matt was no better. A dirty vagabond of a mutt, coated with mud from ankle to knee and shivering like a dog, his clothes a worn, loose mess. He definitely held the victim card in all this. And Mello was definitely the mafia guy, if you got past the fact that he was way too……nice. A real boss would've shot him by now. Yet Mello just stood there, staring him down and fiddling with the trigger.  

"……aren't you gonna shoot?" He cocked a grin at the blond, pleased that the scowl fell away. Yep. Definitely too nice. But neither of them really played into the classic stereotypes anyway. Matt was too snarky, Mello too kind. Maybe that was the poetic beauty of it all though. Matt honestly couldn't bring himself to ponder it too much, since the blond's gaze kept recalling his attention. It looked even prettier in the rain, though now the color resembled blue opals, Kinda like the one in his mom's old wedding ring, and the tiny fragments they'd used to sell as little trinkets back home. "………hey," Matt shifted against the wall, drawing his hand up. "You alive in there?"

Mello's defenses instantly shot up, and the trigger made a soft scraping noise. Matt knew he was seconds away from getting shot, and he flinched, closing his eyes. Time's up. But……the end never came. After several seconds of listening to the pitter patter of the rain, and feeling his jeans grow soaked and cling to his calves, Matt slowly opened his eyes, only to find Mello looking at him with those pale orbs, the gun drawn back and lazily dropped to his side, tip brushing Matt's thigh. "You're so weird," Mello muttered, looking him over and pinching his brows in confusion. "Don't you get it? I could've shot you. That would've been the end. No replays like on those stupid games you're always fiddling with. You can't just…start over. Life doesn't have a repeat button!"

There was a hard truth behind those words, and a deep sense of exasperation that only made Matt want to chuckle. It was the pain that stopped him though. Mello's words were tinged with a sadness that Matt couldn't ignore, even if he tried. Driving deep into his core, he sensed it worm around and simmer like a sickness, or maybe a plague, infecting him from head to toe. Mello had suffered……and Matt…he knew how that felt all too well. He'd endured a brand of pain all his own over the past years, the memories of which continued to haunt his dreams every night as he laid in bed, head turned towards the wall and tears rolling down his jaw. No one ever saw, because he put up a nonchalant front, determined to escape the questions that he could now see running through Mello's head. They might as well have been tangible.

But pretty as he was, he had no interest in being given the third degree, so he cracked a smile and tried to slink out from under Mello's arms. "Thanks for the info. Uh, just so you know though; most games don't have a replay button. How sweet would it be if they did though? That'd be…like…the ultimate cheat code."

He was stopped an inch from freedom by a slender hand. It gripped his forearm, and Matt had a fleeting thought that the blond was stronger than he looked before he was being pushed back against the wall and brought face to face with a pale, looming pair of luminescent eyes. Their owner glowered at him, Mello's mouth set in a stern line. He didn't look at all friendly, and once again the mafia movies came to mind, though dwelling on it proved pretty stupid as Matt was ground into the brick wall and held immobile. "Is that all you think about," Mello clenched the gun tight in his right hand, shoulders trembling. He was supremely annoyed, maybe even pissed off, and it showed. "Video games? Cheat codes? I…" he grit his teeth. Matt swore he could hear them grinding down to his gums. "What does that even mean?! How can you stand rotting your brain with that stuff??"

Matt hesitated, giving him a long look. "What're you so pissed off about?" He leaned back and shoved hands into his pockets, the sodden material barely giving any leave. "What does it matter to you if I game? I don't care about the same kinda stuff you do. It's boring."

Mello slapped the wall, frown deepening "Why not?! You're supposed to be smart too! Why don't you act like it?!"  

"……" what was he supposed to say to that? Matt looked down, trying to think of a suitable answer. He'd never given a damn about grades, learning, or any of that school related stuff. Ever since he could remember, he'd been interested more in games, and the technology behind them. The cyber world was his playground, and he preferred improving his hacking skills over sitting in a classroom, listening to some teacher drone away about stupid wars and boring grammar. So what if he could memorize any book he read, and grasp just about any subject thrown at him? Matt didn't care. He was smart in the technical sense, but there was no passion behind it. Never had been. "…….y'know, I get that a lot. Why don't you study more, read these books? Why don't you care?" Matt shrugged. "You're not the first to throw those kinda questions in my face. Doubt you'll be the last. But I just….don't. Never have. It's not my thing."

There was obviously no grasping of that logic for Mello. His fists shook in barely contained rage, and Matt found himself watching the sight with intrigue. Not often he saw emotions that were as vibrant as Mello's. Especially since he himself often closed away whatever he was feeling, preferring a silent, loner approach than the headstrong hellion one facing him now. "Not your thing?" Mello seemed determined to decipher that, as if it had a deeper meaning. Guess he wasn't the type to take anything at face value. "So….what? You like coming off as a retarded mutt? You do it on purpose??"

A short pause, then "Yeah. Pretty much." Scraping his shoulder when he shrugged again, Matt chuckled. "It gets people to leave me alone. Y'know, until you came along. You're just different, I guess." In more ways than one. Matt could tell just by looking into Mello's eyes. He was special. Really special. Not just for his brains either, contrary to what most people probably believed. He had…..a spark. And a darkness, deep inside. It didn't threaten to consume him, or ravage his mind. Honestly, it seemed as much a part of him as those stunning orbs. Inseparable, and all natural, just like that golden hair and ivory skin. "So…."

"So what," Mello grouched. He wasn't happy, and damn if Matt wouldn't know it.

"So….."Matt kept his voice neutral, although his snarky, mischievous side just itched to come out. He couldn't help it, any more than Mello could help being an arrogant prat. "What's your game plan? Gonna shoot me? Let me go? Kick me in the groin and run off?" Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he fiddled instead with a hole in the denim, plucking at the loose threads. All three were pretty plausible, though the second was seeming more an more unlikely the longer Mello stared at him. And when the gun came up, making its home back against his temple, Matt sighed. Should've seen that one coming. "Guess it's only fair. You caught me."

"Quit making this sound like one of your dumb games." It brushed his upper cheekbone, drifting down his face. Mello smirked. "But….I guess you're right. I caught you, fair and square. You didn't stand a chance of getting away." He nudged the muzzle back under Matt's jaw, tilting his head back towards the sky and soaking it as the rain continued to pour. His goggles weren't much relief, since he could barely see, and Mello, being the smart guy he was, noticed. "Take those off. Only a coward hides his eyes when he's facing the end." He reached up and thumbed the elastic strap at the back of Matt's head. "Are you a coward?"

A coward? Matt chuckled, ignoring his pounding heart that raced with the touch of Mello's hand. It had nothing to do with being cowardly…..or maybe it did. He simply never took his goggles off. Ever. They were a veil, shielding his eyes from the world, and preventing everyone else from seeing his pain. Someone like Mello? He'd recognize those feelings in a heartbeat, if given the chance. They were the same ones that Matt had recognized in his azure depths, glittering like tiny diamonds in the pale sea of blue. "Uh, sorry. They don't come off. S'got nothing to do with being a coward….I just…don't take them off." He did the next best thing though, wiping them clean. Mello could just deal with it. Getting touchy feely with a cute, temperamental blond wasn't on his daily agenda. "There. Happy now? I can see you. Now shoot me and get it over with."

The finger on his goggles drifted for a moment. Mello was pondering it; maybe he understood Matt's stammering? "…….too bad," he finally declared, grabbing the goggles by the lens and ripping them clear off Matt's head. Rain started to sting his eyes, and Matt froze, slowly looking down at the blond and getting used to the sensation of his face without the heavy eyewear, which was now dangling from Mello's free hand. But shit….his goggles were off. Mello could see everything, if he looked hard enough. Hopefully he wouldn't. The blond seemed pretty eager to get this over with, revel in his victory. "There. Now you can see me," Mello declared, stuffing the goggles into Matt's pocket and jerking his face close, the gun stabbing into his flesh. "I want you to watch me…." he paused for a moment, and Matt realized it was because he had no idea what his name was.

"Matt. My name's Matt." He smiled wryly, silently praying his sarcastic shield would be enough to keep Mello at bay, since his goggles were unavailable for use. "Can't threaten me properly if you don't know my name, right?"

Mello frowned. "….whatever. Matt. I want you to keep those eyes on me, you hear? Pay attention." The gun wavered in his hand, cross tinkling in the rain, the only sound that broke their self imposed silence until Mello spoke again, this time with a note of finality. He had to make that clichéd mafia speech, if Matt was remembering his movies right. "You know…..you wouldn't be here if you actually gave a damn about stuff. Or paid any attention. What were you thinking, running into an alley? Isn't that a gamer no-no? Boxing yourself into corners, letting me catch up to you?"

Matt looked at his goggles, fighting the urge to shove them back over his eyes, where they belonged. Cliché speech, check. Content? Questionable. "Y'know, that kinda implies that you're the bad guy in all this." He had the audacity to smirk at Mello, even though his time was quickly trickling to its end in their proverbial hourglass. Even if he made it out of this alley unscathed, there was no hope of continuing. "…..this feels like a mafia movie," he mumbled, putting hands behind his head. Something urged him to grab the hidden gun he'd been keeping stashed in a holder strapped to his back, but he wasn't that dumb. Mello would shoot him without a moment's notice. Plus, he'd lost fair and square. Time to set down his cards and bow out gracefully. Not like he really gave a shit anyway. This stuff really was more Mello's scene.

"Yeah?" That got a laugh out of the blond, and he smirked devilishly, piercing midori with aquamarine and fondling the trigger. Countdown started, and Matt waited for it to end. "Tch. If this were a mafia movie, I would've shot you by now. We never would've had this conversation, and you would be reaching for that gun under your shirt, since the victims are always idiots who go and make stupid mistakes." His lips quirked higher, trigger half mast. Matt didn't bother to question how he knew about the gun. This was war; everyone carried a spare. "Kinda like you running down here, letting me trap you. Smooth move, gamer boy."

"Didn't care about winning, Mr. Boss-in-training. Like  you said, this isn't a video game. I can't save and finish later, or jump ship 'cause I'm losing. And I never do anyway." Taking a quick gulp of air, Matt looked him dead in the face, uncaring now if Mello saw anything in his gaze. There was no time left for Mello to look closer and ponder it. After this, he could run off, return to his monotonous existence, and never have to face that piercing gaze again. "Gotta face it head on. I'm no coward."

The trigger clicked again, so close to ending him. Mello held it quietly at the point of no return, and for a moment, just a split second, Matt was sure that the blond had spotted something in his eyes. Something that was giving him pause. But then he grinned, expression vicious, if not a tad appreciative, and nodded his head. "Time's up."

Matt smirked. "Game over."

Click.

BANG.

Red exploded on Matt's face, coloring his shirt collar and soaking his front. Wrinkling his nose, he wiped at some of the watered down paint, letting the rain help as it made the liquid wash down his cheeks, flowing away. There was no salvaging his shirt though; it was red as blood on the front, several of the stripes permanently dyed the sickly color. From the tip of Mello's gun, several more drops of the paint dripped down. Some splashed Matt's jeans, soaking those too, further signifying his failure. He'd lost. Game over. Mello had caught him fair and square, as was his rightful duty as the other team's captain. Although, whoever created a game of tag involving paint filled water guns was off his rocker. Oh yeah, wait…..it was Roger, the old coot. That explained everything.

"Blegh." Grumbling, Matt spat out some of the liquid, giving the blond a dirty smile. "Just had to shoot me in the face, didn't you? Jerk? Could've gotten me in the arm, or the leg. You heard what Roger said. Rules were, all you had to do to knock somebody out of the game was hit one of the limbs with the paint. This," and he gestured to the mess on his face, which was already mostly gone due to the rain, "wasn't necessary."

Mello smirked, wiping the gun tip on Matt's pants. "I disagree. I spent most of this stupid game hunting you down. I wanted to make it clear who finally got you. Hence," he gestured vaguely to the already fading paint. "--you know, for a guy who lazes on his butt and games all day, you're pretty fast on your feet. I had to put some actual effort into catching you." Tucking the gun into the waistband of his baggy black pants, he gave the redhead a long glance over, as if curious. "Good that I did though. Near's a brain, but he doesn't strategize well. He doesn't care about his sacrifices, or teammates. You--you just….do things we're not expecting. Stuff that benefits you, not just the team." His grin returned full force, and Mello clapped Matt on the shoulder, snickering. "No wonder the sheep made you his tactician. You're a freaking monkey wrench."  

That was the one thing that had made Mello so eager to participate in the game. When Roger had sent them outside the Wammy walls, each child loaded with a water gun and nothing else, he'd declared that they were going to have a friendly match of tag. How better to test their field skills, see of what they were learning in the classrooms was truly sinking in? You never knew for sure until it was really tested, after all.

Matt suspected it was more him wanting to get everyone out of his hair for a few hours. Not that he really cared. It was all a big game to him, and he'd made that known, standing back on the sidelines and watching quietly as Roger dubbed Near captain of the first team, which Mello had quickly nicknamed The Sheep Brigade. He'd then gone gung ho and declared himself the other team's captain, children divided equally between both boys as Mello swore to pulverize his enemy, taking the position as number one. Then Near, in his monotonous tone, had thrown a money wrench into the whole scenario and dubbed Matt his battlefield tactician. Since he had experience….if games even counted.

Things had then gone from personal to downright vicious. Tasked with a new challenge, Mello had turned to the redhead and stared him down, unafraid and eager for a challenge. For without Matt backing him up, Near was defenseless on the field. He understood battle, and the technicalities behind it, of course, but Matt could get into the nitty gritty details, hone in on all the mistakes and correct them like they were game flaws. That made him dangerous. That made him an enemy. Something to be captured at all costs, for the sake of his need to win. He'd succeeded too. The game was over. Mello had caught him fair and square, backing him into this corner. Sure, Matt hadn't scoped out the whole place before charging head first, but who cares? It was just a game. He didn't care about winning, losing. Never had. If a boss refused to die in one of his video games, then Matt could strive harder to do so, if he so chose. Usually he didn't. He gave it up, maybe returning a week or two later. Then he worked it out at his own pace, going through plan after plan, occasionally meshing the parts in a haphazard display until, eventually, he came to a conclusion.

Most called it laziness. Matt? He begged to differ. Unlike Mello, he just didn't need immediate gratification.

But there was no gratification this time though. After all this, his time spent haunted by vivid, innocent orbs, it was game over. Speaking of….Matt zoned back in to the conversation, noticing Mello still on a roll about his greatness. Go figure. "Yeah yeah. I get it already; you're great, I'm a loser. Done throwing yourself a mental celebration yet? We need to get back to our teams. They'll be thrilled to know that General Blondie has successfully triumphed in his defeat of His Holy Paleness, Sheep Lord, in their epic battle of paint and death."

Mello pretended to ignore his snide attempt at humor…but he did chuckle at Near's nickname. It was fitting, in a weird, screwy kind of way. "Good. This game's been going on long enough. I need some chocolate. And I bet you want to get back to…..uh…."

"….My games?" Matt offered helpfully. Mello nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I left Princess Peach all alone in her castle. Gotta gear up with some fireballs and go rescue her sorry hide. Since, y'know, all she's good for is being dragon bait." He grinned and moved away from the wall, finally able to take a relaxed pose in front of the blond. The war was over. He was out of the game. Nothing to worry about now. And….Matt's eyes brightened, and he hastily pulled his goggles out of his pocket. He could put these babies back on.

The strap was just being re-secured behind his head when he saw Mello looking at him, and not in a normal way either. He looked……quiet. Like he was pondering something important. But Matt was the only one here, so how could that be? Unless….

"Matt. Why do you always wear those go--"

"Matt." A quiet, blasé voice filled the alley. Surprising, because it was so soft, especially with the rain pouring down around them, trickling and hissing. It immediately drew both their attentions though, and Mello's smile turned nasty, eyes riveting on the pale white figure standing several feet away. Maybe that was what set him off, made his hand clench tighter around the gun, or what drew his eyes back over to Matt, who stood there all casual. Honestly, he was just wondering if General Blondie was going to throw a fit. He seemed to do that a lot when faced with the albino.

"Yo, your Holiness."

Grey eyes turned to him, staring silently, and Matt hid a small shiver, pulling his goggles firmly into place. Those eyes gave him the heebie jeebies. "I see Mello got you," Near said, voice little more than a whisper. Yet both blond and redhead heard him. You couldn't help it really. He just had that presence about him. Ghostly, and unnerving as hell. "I'm surprised. It took a lot longer than I expected it to. Not to ridicule your skills, but Mello is a very….determined individual."

"Quit talking about me like I'm not here!" Said blond retaliated with a snap, hoisting his gun up and pointing it at the albino. "I don't care if the game IS over. I'll still shoot you! You need some freaking color on you anyway." His gaze shifted to Matt, as if seeking the redhead's approval, or his agreement. Matt blinked, shrugging. He didn't care either way. He didn't have an issue with Near. That was all Mello's shtick. "Ah well. Maybe the next game. I'll just go after you first." Mello grinned, spinning the weapon around his finger, a couple of red droplets coloring his fingertips. "Matt was a better challenge anyway. I liked going after him a lot more. He was pretty good at evading me, until he screwed up and ran down here."

Eh? The fuck was that, his way of flattering people? It needed work.

Near didn't say anything for a moment, turning his head between the two and looking at the stain on Matt's shirt. "Obviously you were eager to capture him. A capable tactician is always good at evading his opponent." His pale face gave no sign of enjoyment or irritation at the words. He might as well have been carved out of a heap of marble. Super pale marble, mind you, that looked like it was dressed as a giant, fluffy marshmallow.  "I'm afraid that you've been misled though, Mello. The game isn't over yet. There are still two players left on the board, a fact that I'm sure you've realized by now. In fact, you likely prepared for it, didn't you? That's why you went after Matt first. With him removed from the game, that left myself defenseless, as well as our army."

Wow. Matt deadpanned, rubbing his nape. The kid was pretty smart. He'd deduced Mello's plan like it was a piece of paper under glass, the words written in bold black ink. And he could tell it infuriated Mello too; he was practically trembling, he was so pissed off. "That's right, Near. I did plan for this. My army has trashed yours by now, if they listened and followed my orders. You're the only one left, since Matt's out of the game." He visibly glowed, grin power hungry and dangerous. "Now I can destroy you! This game is mine!"

Maybe Matt had been underestimating his competitiveness with the albino kid. He really, truly seemed to hate him. His sky colored orbs shone with a sadistic pleasure, heightened as Mello took a step forward, gun ready and waiting at his side. One shot, and he'd win the game. It didn't look like Near was gonna fight back either. He was just standing there, calmly assessing Mello with his creepy, I-can-dissect-you thing going on. Matt almost felt like he was encroaching on forbidden ground, and started to take a step back, run out of the soaked alley and see if his teammates had truly fallen, when Near spoke again.

"You were also under the impression that I would leave myself weaponless, weren't you? As the commander, or His Holiness, as Matt has dubbed me, I had no need for weapons. I could simply use my teammates as a shield when necessary, protecting myself."

Mello frowned, and Matt mimicked it. He was getting curious, and a nasty sense of trepidation. What was that saying? Things were never as they seemed? Appearances could be deceiving? Yeah, those both seemed pretty accurate. The look Near was now giving him really didn't help the feeling that something weird was up. Did he have some secret plan? Why were his eyes like honing beacons, tiny pricks of grey that seemed to drill through the rain and pierce the back of his spi--

Oh.

OH.

He knew. Hell, what was he thinking? Near knew everything. He had magical, holy powers or something. Or maybe he was Professor X's bastard, albino son, and could read minds. Either way, Matt steeled his spine and gave a curt nod, keeping everything under wraps from the blond between them, who was about ready to foam at the mouth. He was confused, and he didn't like it. "Don't even think about cheating, you freak," he spat, shaking the gun. "Matt's out of the game! You can't use him as anything!"

"Yes, this is true. Matt is out of the game. Roger's rules clearly stated that once a player is hit with the paint, they are no longer able to wield their gun to shoot another player. However," Near's long fingers swept up his jaw and curled a piece of white hair that hung by his ear. Anyone else, and it might've been cute. Near managed to make it look really, really creepy. "There is no rule stating that a hit player may not offer his weapon over to a fellow player, if they are still in the game. Which, you can clearly see, I am." Thin lips gave a ghost of a smile, and Near turned to Mello, slouching and still fondling his curly locks. "Did you predict that too, Mello? Or were you so impatient to begin the game and subsequently defeat me that you never read over the pamphlet of rules that Roger handed to us both?"

The dead silence was answer enough. Matt could see it on Mello's face though, in the subtle way his jaw twitched. He was boxed into the same corner that Matt had thrown himself into. He'd run head first into a situation without assessing every outcome first. Now Matt was standing in a dirty brick and concrete behemoth of an alley between two boys who were both giving him long looks; Near's blank, and Mello's a mingle of irritation, curiosity, and worry. "…………let me get the straight," he muttered, drawing the gun out from under his shirt. It gleamed, black as oil and almost too realistic. Wammy's really went all out when it came to their toys. "According to His Holiness, I can give you this gun, and you can finish Mello off." He flipped it over in his hand, muzzle pointed towards Near..

Near nodded. "That is correct. As my teammate, you are well within your rights to do so."

Matt fiddled with the gun, glancing towards Mello. He was agitated. Once again, it was he and Matt in a deadlock. And this time, there was no way he could see the redhead's eyes, get a glimpse of what he was feeling. Until Matt said otherwise, he was completely in the dark. Geez, since when did life get cheat codes?  This wasn't in the instructor's manual. "…….but….lets turn that theory around. The rule just said I could give my gun over to a player still in the game, right? So--" he thumbed the trigger, knowing he couldn't pull it.  "What's stopping me from giving it to Mello? Sorry. General Blondie. There a rule against that?"

Near was silent. Mello was too, but he looked on edge now, tense and trembling slightly from the chilly air and water invading their clothes. He was expecting him to hand over the gun to Near, Matt realized. There was a good chance Mello could shoot the albino in the time it would take Matt to do so, but there was equally a chance that he would hit Matt instead, missing what had to be one of his final shots on a player that was already down for the count. Matt's gun was fairing no better; he could hear enough juice sloshing around for one more hit. One perfect, targeted shot. "Guess it's a stand off then," Matt mumbled. What was with all the mafia scenarios today? He could be a victim being fought over by two don's, the way Mello looked at Near, and the albino stared back. "……Mello. I should probably give this gun to Near. I mean, he is the Sheep Lord. My commander. Game protocol calls that I turn over my weapon, give it to the player that's still alive. It's common courtesy."

There was a hard gnashing sound in the alley; Mello was gritting his teeth again. "So do it. End it."

Wow, déjà vu. Mello really was in his position now. Matt glanced down at his gun, ignoring the two's probing gazes and fondling the trigger, then the handle and various plastic parts that made up its machinery. The weapon looked just like the ones he used in his war zone games, but was real. He held a gun in his hand, and was being forced to make a choice. Him. The nonchalant guy who played games as an escape from life, much like he wore his goggles as a shield. Winning, losing. What did they mean to him? So what if life had no reset button, or a place to pause. Matt was pretty sure there would be no serious repercussions to this little game. Either Mello got the gun, or Near did. Things could still get out of hand after that, no matter what he did. Mello could attack Near, or the albino could actually have a weapon hidden under his shirt. Too many possibilities…..his mind swam with them, and Matt grimaced, setting his eyes firmly on the ground. He was a follower, not a decider. Making choices like this--it just wasn't his thing. Couldn't ever see it being, unless the situation was dire and really called for it.

Ok, step back. What was  the situation? General Blondie vs. His Holy Paleness. Two mortal enemies, and he was trapped between. Sounded familiar, like something you'd read in a book for kids, trying to teach good morals and stuff, or the value of love over selfishness. Matt didn't know. He wasn't fond of reading. "I guess the game really wasn't over yet." Laughing softly, he turned his veiled, yet still brilliant eyes up to Mello and Near, who were both waiting anxiously for his decision. At least, Mello was. "You both want this gun, so you can defeat the other. You're relying on me," he smiled, holding the gun up and pointing it at the sky. "Guess it sucks for you, huh? I don't go for this middle ground shit. You wanna win so bad? Do it on your own terms."

And with an even bigger smile, Matt pulled the tab on his gun and let the paint-water spill out onto the ground. He waited until it was completely empty before tossing the gun nonchalantly onto the concrete, perfectly between Mello and Near, the former who which looked stunned. Near just stared. "……..well. I didn't see this coming," he mumbled after a minute, and Matt smirked. "Matt. You completely managed to turn the tables on this game, once again."

"Hey, I just took myself out of the equation," he replied, shoving hands into his pockets. "You were both getting so dependent on me, I figured it'd be fun to make things a bit harder on you both. First rule of war games," his smile quirked, forming a leer. "Don't rely on anybody but yourself. 'Cause you never know when one of your teammate will go rogue and screw you over."

Mello's face, which had, until then, been no better than Near's, cracked its blank façade and shifted into a flailing rage that Matt was really much more comfortable with. "Wait, what the fuck?! Can he do that?! There has to be a rule against that, there just has to be! I mean--come on! That's not fair!" He whirled on the redhead, throwing his hands up in the air, gun making a soft sloshing sound.  "I thought you said you weren't a coward!"

"I'm not." Matt shrugged, devilish smile still in place. It was pissing Mello off, and it made him want to laugh his ass off. The guy really was a sore loser. "If anything, Mello, you were the one being cowardly. Relying on the other team's tactician? What, did you think I would go turncoat and just hand you over my gun? You said it yourself man. I'm the monkey wrench in this equation. I do stuff that benefits ME first, then my teammates." Lifting a hand, the redhead gestured between Mello and Near. "Look at it this way. You're the only one with a gun here now. His Holiness all but said he wasn't carrying one, right? So what's stopping you from going over there and shooting him in the face?"

"Yes Mello." And that was Near cutting in, voice completely blasé. "I confess that Matt emptying his ammo wasn't a factor in my plans, but there is no helping it now. As it stands, I am still defenseless, and you are the only one who possesses a gun in this alley. The only gun with enough ammo to fire a winning shot." He shuffled a cotton clad foot, rubbing a lock of hair between his fingers and looking at the ground. "You've all but won, Mello. So take the shot. End me, and this game."

The combined pressure of their words seemed to be taking its toll on Mello, and he growled in frustration, clenching the handle of his gun and tossing Matt an infuriated glance. "I can't just--end it now! This isn't fair! Dammit Near, you always screw things up!" Mello stomped his foot, water splashing up around his ankle. "You had this planned from the beginning, didn't you?! You knew Matt and I would be the only ones left, that he would dump out his gun!!! You knew! This whole time, you've just been laughing at me! Well--screw you! I'm not going to be one of your pawns, you little freak! No fucking way!"

Near didn't seem surprised at his outburst. Matt was a bit though, since technically it was his fault that Mello was now stuck and unsure of what to do, not Near's. There was no way the kid could've known that he'd empty his gun and prevent them both from using it in the standoff. But he kept his mouth shut, honestly too amused by the whole situation to speak up and correct him. Let Mello think what he wanted. Maybe he'd get to watch the blond crack and shoot Near in the face too. Nothing against the albino, of course, since Matt honestly didn't have a problem with him, but…it'd still be pretty funny. Those white clothes splattered with red paint, hair and face marred in the dripping red; Near was already soaked through from the thunderstorm, which had thankfully died down to a soft trickle. Just add some pant to that, and it'd be--

Click.

"Bang."

Matt saw Mello smirk and pull his trigger. He also saw the paint come flying out from the muzzle. What he didn't see was anything after that, since a fresh spurt of red liquid hit him dead on, soaking his lenses and matting his red hair with viscous liquid. "……" quiet, he let the paint drip down his jaw and chin, waiting several seconds before lifting a hand and wiping his goggles clean, at least enough to see the blond stuffing his gun back into his pants, far more triumphant and pleased looking than he'd been a minute before. "……..really Mello?"

Shirt tucked back over his pants, the blond smirked and crossed his arms, head cocked to the side as he admired his handiwork. "There. Bet you weren't counting on that, were you Near? Now I'm out of ammo too, and you don't have a gun. The game's tied."

"So it would seem," Near agreed, barely sparing Matt a glance. "I suppose we'll simply have to wait till the next match to determine a true winner." He turned on his heel and started padding back the way he'd came, dodging puddles and continuously getting soaked as the rain flowed down. If he noticed, he didn't make it obvious. He didn't seem to care at all really. "I'll return to the house. Roger will want to know that the game is over. As will our troops." Pausing at the alley entrance, Near spoke again, a note of amusement coloring his voice. "General Blondie. Tactician."

Wait……..what just happened? "….Your Holiness." Matt stumbled over the words, watching Near vanish through a paint flecked orange tint before whirling on Mello, who had also started to take off. "Hey, wait! What was that about?!"

"You'll have to elaborate," Mello chuckled, peering at him over his shoulder. "What was what about?"

Playing coy? That jerk. Matt stomped over to him and gestured wildly to his face and clothes, which were incredibly sticky now from the fresh ammo. "I thought you wanted to beat him! Why did you shoot me instead?? You had a clear shot! Isn't he, like, your arch rival or something? Why me???" Why would Mello waste his one chance at defeating Near, choosing to shoot Matt instead? What purpose did it serve him? A tied game was no lose, yeah, but it wasn't a win either. All Mello had done was delay his eventual triumph or failure, putting it off to another day, and a fresh battle. For a guy like Mello, who valued gratification…it made no sense. No sense at all. "…I don't get it."

"You don't have to." His smirk widening, Mello gave Matt a firm clap on the back, touching where his gun had once been shouldered, though now it lay forgotten in a slowly growing puddle of rain water, the liquid tinkling as it bounced off the matte surface. "I hate Near, Matt. He's a pain in the ass, and I want nothing more than to beat him at his own game. But this game wasn't just about him, remember? Near was the commander of your little army. You…you were the tactician." He chuckled, ignoring Matt's confused look in favor of giving his goggle strap a firm pluck, making the elastic slap against his skull. "And everyone knows it's the tactician that really matters. Without him, the team has no hope. Without you. They had no hope."

Matt stared at him, still a bit confused. "But….I was already out of the game? You already beat me."

"Exactly." Leaving him with that, Mello left the alley, laughter trailing behind him and vanishing in the pound of rain.
Matt just stared, a funny feeling in his stomach. So Mello threw the game…..because he'd already won? But…that made no sense. No sense at all. So what if Near had only been the commander, and he the tactician? He wasn't the only one calling the shots! And Near was Mello's arch rival. Shouldn't he give a crap about defeating him above all else, take any chance he could get to see the albino lose? Why throw away a game he had in the bag, just to put it off until a rematch could be arranged? Made no sense. No sense at all.

"……………freaking blonds." Shaking his head, Matt retrieved his gun from the puddle and wiped it clean, paint dripping off his chin and splashing into the water. He stared at it, then glanced at the weapon slack in his fingers. Tactician. He'd thrown away any chance of making himself an ally and enemy in the blond and albino….but had he really? He remembered the look on Mello's face, the pondering in his china eyes as he's started to ask Matt his question, until Near showed up and ruined it. He was curious, and he'd flat out said that it was Matt who he'd been wanting to defeat. An army was nothing without its tactician. Near was just a scapegoat for his hate. He wanted to defeat him for the sheer purpose of doing it. But throwing away a game…..Matt frowned, clenching his gun's handle and pointing the muzzle towards the alley entrance. There were no cheat codes in life. No restarts, or pause points. You could have rematches though, which is exactly what Mello had set the board up for. A rematch. And what did you do before a rematch? You studied your opponent, learned their weaknesses, accomplishments. Every small nuances. You dissected them, maybe even wormed your way in close. A frenemies tactic, which had all the potential in the world to go good or bad, or morph into a true friendship. Enemies made lovely opponents. Friends….now there was a challenge. What was more fun than destroying someone you knew inside and out on a battlefield? It was more meaningful. More inspiring.

Tossing the game, taking a tie over a win, Mello had set up the board for a whole new match. This time, it would be tactician vs. general. Near was just the icing on top of the cake. Defeating him came after stomping Matt into the dirt. "…well Mello," Matt grinned, fingering his trigger. "Bring it on. Never been one to take war seriously before…but this could be fun." It'd be a game hard enough to give him a challenge, that's for sure. And even if he couldn't restart, there were always chances to throw in another monkey wrench, screw with things some more. That was always fun. "It's what I do best."

Gun cocked, Matt laughed and shook his head, midori eyes twinkling behind their veil. He wondered if he'd be able to make Mello's eyes look that way again too. "Eh. Guess we'll see." He pulled the trigger, rain muffling the soft, empty pop of his cartridge. "……bang."
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Ending sucks. I don't care. Deal with it XD

~Az