L opened his eyes blearily. This was... Hell. In every sense of the word.
Cold air nipped his skin. His bare skin... his suit was neatly folded on a chair. How like Light, to do something like that... his head ached. He wondered if he was concussed; something was definitely wrong with him, at any rate.
And the pain in his head wasn't the only sensation that caught his attention. The cold metal barrel of Light's gun was pressed against the side of his skull. And Light's leering, wickedly grinning face hovering above him while his body pinned him.
L writhed, attempting to throw off Light at the risk of getting his brains blown out... but he was handcuffed and bound, completely paralyzed. He narrowed his eyes, spitting in Light's face.