You know me. I’m Kanra, that one blogger who’s obsessed with watching new things and then extrapolating them to see how it would play out if the setting was changed to my own country. So far, the only one I’ve done is for the Walking Dead and you can check that post out here. I have been considering to do a similar post for Daredevil and maybe the Avengers, but for now, let’s settle with Death Note.
This post will not be a chalked down, facts over fiction type of post the way the last one was. Nope, this time, I’m going to be writing out iconic scenes from Death Note, but in a short trailer sort of fashion. Ready? All I ask you to do is to play the following sound track while you read (for the atmosphere LOL). It’s going to be great (and if it’s not, scream in the comments below). Let’s get started.
Noor Fateh. Extraordinary boy. Face plastered over his school and all over newspapers. With straight distinctions in his A Levels and uptight, formal personality, you would have classed him as a nerd, if it wasn’t for his flawless looks and the fact that he was the one bringing home the trophies for the school. Football? Check. Chess? Check. Was there anything Noor wasn’t good at? Probably not.
It’s a cold February morning. Islamabad’s mountains are foggy, clouds drifting over them. It’s probably snowing in Murree, just two hours away. Noor is settled on one of the benches in the courtyard, tutoring a junior. A silly boy who means well, but Noor can’t help feeling annoyed. He didn’t have anything better to do, truthfully, but trying to explain concepts to someone so helplessly ignorant was proving to be difficult.
“My friends are waiting for me” the boy says, leg jumping up and down impatiently. “Gotta play a match against City School this week. Can’t we speed this up?”
“Do you want to fail your math test again?” Noor asked, patience masking his annoyance. What a typical rich kid he was forced to tutor. The only reason this boy was in this school was because his parents were wealthy and they needed their son to gather as many status symbols as possible. Noor sighed, closing the book with a snap. “You know what? You can go. Take the week off. I hope you win the cricket match”
Overjoyed, his student claps his shoulder with a grin and starts shoving his books back in his bag as fast as physically possible. “Thanks man! Won’t let you down!”
The sky is darkening. It looks like it’s about to rain. Fortunately, Noor is settled in one of the shaded benches and he is considering to sit the rain out. He was a straight A student- a genius, more like- and he could afford to skip class every now and then. Besides, this rain would be a lot more enjoyable than the usual droning going on in class. Noor settles down on the bench and closes his eyes.
He may have drifted off to sleep. He can’t remember, honestly, but he jerks back to reality nevertheless when the sound of something hard hitting the glass windows of the classrooms around and above him startle him. It has begun to hail, small balls of ice hitting the pavement and the glass and the bricks around him. To move out of this place and towards shelter would be dangerous- hail hits hard and would leave bruises for days.
“Exciting” Noor comments dryly, when something catches his attention Among the white raining down, comes a dark book falling almost gracefully onto a bench not five feet away. There’s no one around- class was already in session- and Noor can’t imagine anyone standing outside in this weather to toss out a book.
The book is lying there, hail pounding over it, almost burying the dark cover with ice. For some strange, unexplained reason, Noor is drawn to the book. Reluctantly, he picks up a hardcover chemistry book and uses it as a makeshift cover to reach the book, hail stinging his exposed arms, and make it back to safety. The cover reads: Death Note.
The book has been lying hidden among the others on his bookshelf. It’s on a calm, Friday evening after Jummah that he finally gets the time to see what it is that he’s gotten his hands on. It takes only a few minutes for him to skim through the rules. The scientist in him seeks to experiment, to see if this book was for real.
“If I had the power to kill, who would I kill?” Noor asks aloud. It’s a hypothetical situation, he reminds himself. This book might just be a prank. To be sure, however… I should write the name of someone who truly deserves to die. Noor can’t summon up a name, nor a face, and so he decides to use the news to his advantage. Always, there was always something bad happening on the news. It only takes a few moments to pull up a live stream of Geo. (after calling PTCL a few times because MAN YOUR CONNECTION SUCKS).
Robbery is something almost unheard of in Islamabad, but it’s rampant in a city like Karachi. A recent case is on the news of a man who shot a woman and her child when she refused to hand over the gold she was wearing. It seems the far and few surveillance cameras had managed to find out the murderer’s identity. Saleem Raza.
“I could write his name”
Noor picks up a pen, chest heaving in anger as the news continues to show a happy picture of the dead woman and the child with their family- a father and two middle school children. Noor can’t even begin to imagine how much pain that family must be in- killed just for some gold? This is despicable and Noor writes down the name of the murderer in the Death Note as he looks straight at the identifying picture shared on the screen.
“Saleem Raza kills all his accomplices with a kitchen knife before running straight into a police station and dies by subsequent gunfire”
Heart beating loudly in his chest, Noor snaps the Death Note shut and puts it back in the book shelf. What were the chances that it really worked? Noor had written an oddly specific way of death for Saleem Raza to rule out any and all chances. Now all he had to do was wait till Saleem came on the news again.
16 hours have passed since Noor wrote in the Death Note. Saleem Raza is alive and on the move. Noor knows this because Saleem has been branded a serial killer as he roams the streets of Karachi, armed with a kitchen knife, stabbing the people he has been tasked to kill. Noor doesn’t know how to feel about this- his Saturday had been going relatively peaceful until the television downstairs was turned on. Facebook and Twitter was flooded with #SaleemRaza and witnesses on television were hysterical.
Noor doesn’t know when Saleem will die. Would Saleem even be able to kill everyone involved in his thievery business? According to the Death Note, there was no way for Noor to be able to edit Saleem’s sentence- there was no way for Noor to kill Saleem before the body count went above a dozen at least. The police were following Saleem’s trail and his kill count was rising by the hour. The citizens of Karachi were hysterical- the rangers had moved in and the entire area that Saleem was prowling had been shut down, citizens told to stay in their homes while a special forces squad was deployed to contain the murderer.
“What have I done?”
“What have you done?” repeats a scratchy voice.
Noor’s face drains of it’s color as he slowly turns around to find a large demon reading over his shoulder. He shrieks in alarm before cutting off his own scream by covering his mouth. The creature makes no move to harm him, but merely nods, as though finding the Geo live stream, the open Death Note on the desk and the gawking school boy to be a very amusing sight.
Neither of them say anything. The creature is still watching the stream in interest and Noor can’t take his eyes off the glowing eyes, the wrinkled skin, the frayed clothing. When he finally speaks, it’s with a squeak- a trembling recitation of the Qur’an in an attempt to dismiss the terrifying jinn from his presence.
“Auzubillah himinash- “
The rest of what he’s saying is drowned out by harsh, barking laughter from the creature, with occasional wheezes and a shaking frame. Noor doesn’t understand what the joke is but he tries to continue the recitation.
“You think I’m Satan! Ahaha! Silly boy. Haven’t you heard of Malak-al-Mout?”
20 hours have passed since Noor wrote in the Death Note. Saleem Raza is dead. A highly specialized squad was deployed and had succeeded in eliminating the serial killer from Karachi’s streets. With the criminal dead, talk shows have sprung up with journalists and analysts wondering what could have prompted this behavior. By the hour, victims of Saleem Raza’s killing spree and their criminal backgrounds are being released to the public.
“You certainly took the bull by the horns” Ryuuk snickers, catching the apple Noor tossed at him greedily. “I haven’t come across any human who wrote their first name with so much ambition. Look at all the death and chaos you’ve caused! Right on your first name!”
With Saleem dead, Noor was feeling considerably more content with what he had done. It was a necessary evil and Noor could not see himself regretting it or going back in time to tell himself not to do it. For now, he was holding the Death Note in awe, flipping through the previous pages, filled with names. It seemed language was not an issue. He even paused at some of the pages to read the creative death sentences. Most of these seemed to powered more by anger and vengeance.
“I could change Pakistan with this” he said slowly. “My country is rife with terrorism, corruption and crime. I could change everything-“
For too long politicians had been fooling the youth with their promises of change and betterment for the country. Noor held the answer to all of his country’s struggles. He could kill everyone who sought to harm his country and he could single-handedly turn his country around and put it back on the road to prosperity. What could be a greater, more noble goal than this?
“You could” Ryuuk agrees, still focused on chomping down the apple.
20 days have passed since Noor picked up the Death Note on that fateful day. No name has been added after Saleem Raza’s since then.
Noor Fateh wants to do this perfectly.
Ryuuk isn’t complaining. The first name alone had gotten him exactly 14 deaths. He is excited to see what Noor will cook up next for him.
It is early April, just a little past dawn. The air is still chilly.
Sirens pierce through the city, police cars and wagons racing to the crime scene. A large, scenic house, not too far from Constitution Avenue. A bureaucrat’s house. An unbelievably rich bureaucrat’s house.
Investigator Hassan Ahmed is in charge of this case. The bureaucrat’s wife had called the police during the time that the city was flooded with the call to prayer. She had found her husband dead in his study and was too hysterical to reveal any other details over the phone. Nevertheless, Investigator Ahmed was on the scene now and could see things for himself.
The house appeared to be unbroken. The security system had not tripped. The interior of the house, lavish and gaudy, was untouched. The dogs outside in the lawn had not been disturbed either and did not appear to be drugged. Ahmed was aware that the bureaucrat had built himself enemies, but considering all the security measure he had taken to protect himself, it was difficult to understand how he could have been murdered.
He climbs up the flight of stairs, lead by a servant, to the study where the bureaucrat’s body lay. The scene itself is a blood bath. The corpse is seated on a chair in the center of the room, a rope hanging around his neck, attached to the ceiling fan above. Ahmed is beginning to suspect some sort of foul play- this kind of hanging position was odd. Maybe someone had set the bureaucrat up after drugging him? Ahmed would need a toxin analysis to rule that out.
The bureaucrat’s hands are bloody. Ahmed leans in, careful not to touch, to see it up close. It seems like he had cut the pads of his fingers. The cuts look deep. Ahmed turns around to find the pristine white wall covered with bloody writing. A sickening feeling tells Ahmed that finger printing was not needed- the bureaucrat was the one who had written the message.
So, what did you guys think? Let me know in the comments! I wrote this all out on a whim so there might be some random stuff in there that shouldn’t be there (I haven’t proofread enough). If you guys like it enough, I could consider writing more. I have already crafted a character to be Misa (honestly, she’s going to be a mix of Misa and Kiomi Takada) and L… well. L stays as is. Don’t forget to let me know what you thought of this! Have a nice day!