Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
By Silver Sailor Ganymede
The room is desolate, devoid of anything real. Even the light and the shadows are synthetic, warping the mind until it, like the shadows, begins to scream. Not that the mind would survive in a place like this; men in cells like rats in cages, they are not human anymore.
They were reagrded as being human at one point, but not now, not now that the 'saviour' has come and is dealing unto them the card of death, the hand on unjust justice. They just sit there in silence, waiting, waiting for death to come a'calling. Waiting for Kira to bring about their deaths just like he has to so many others.
The entire building is exactly like that, silent, synthetic, an illusion. The tramp of footsteps in a corridor echoing like screams in an endless abyss of nothingness. Tramp, tramp, tramp, the feet of death and the devil walk these corridors, life absent in a place where hope has long-since died.
A lone man paces through the building, hellfire in his eyes more real than the false light that surrounds him, shrouding him in inverse shadows. He comes to the door of the room and pushes it open silently.
The room is desolate, empty, dead; there was supposed to be something living within it, but the living die when hope is burned to cinders. Swish, swish, swish. A rope breaks as the damned fall to the ground, the embodiment of nothingness itself.