Maybe L had lost it. Maybe desperation and the clear fact that he wasn't in control had driven him to insanity and turned him into the lunatic that Kal suspected he was. The bottom line, in the end, was that he was willing to end his own life simply so that it would end in a draw. Simply so he wouldn't lose.
He could feel the heat rising. It would be a quick death. He'd feel warmth, and then he'd die before he could feel pain. Explosions were not beautiful deaths, where the body was concerned. Terrible things happened to the human physiology when it was blown to bits, but from a distance, the color of the flames would be quite lovely, at least. He could hear the windows shattering, chalking it up to the shocks reverberating throughout the factory rather than Kal's action. And then, without warning, Kal seized him and, with speed that dizzied a man already faint from the grave acceptance of his own death, flew out the window with him in tow, leaving behind a violent explosion. Even under the current circumstances, L couldn't help but be proud of the devastating event.
The jetset life was unkind to L in many ways, but it had its advantages. He was afraid of neither flying or heights, but he was still glad to be returned to solid earth again. It meant that he could safely get angry at the man who had ruined his dignified exit, his assurance of a draw, his ability to die thinking that he had at least chosen his own manner of demise.
Eyes indignant, bright and fierce, L proceeded to punch Kal in the jaw. It was like hitting a concrete wall, and the pain that shot through L's hand and arm left him speechless.