Mail Jeevas -- Matt

[Matt]

READ BETWEEN THE LINES
••

Name: mail jeevas [pronounced mile gee-vus]
Alias: matt
Gender: male
Age: eleven
Birth Date: 2.1.90

LET ME SEE YOU SMILE
••

Height: 4'3"
Weight: 81lbs.
Build: slim
Eye Colour: blue
Hair Colour: red/green
Avatar: matt of death note

Matt is a familiar character to us all. He is always wearing those orange-tinted goggles over his red hair, his blue eyes gleaming with every level he beats on his games. He is roughly 4'3" now and weighs around 81lbs. He is fairly small in size, but isn't practically everyone here at Wammy? Anyway, he is often wearing a black and white striped shirt and gloves, but the rest may vary. Normally he would wear his little boots and blue jeans, but on warm days he'll wear regular shoes and shorts of some sort. He had no particular style other than a typical gamer.

His frame is small, but more "male" than Mello's. He is often seen hanging around the girlish boy, always following him around while playing games and playing pranks on Roger. He is a sweet kid and an adorable one, zoning out often when no games are available. He isn't too reliable unless you're Mello, really.

THE DRUGS DON'T WORK
••

Likes:

• His goggles
  
• Following/hanging with Mello
  
• Video games
  
• Computer games
  
• Cute girls

Dislikes:

• "IRL" games
  
• Working
  
• Wearing suits
  
• Going too long without games
  
• Poorly made games

Fears:

• Losing games
  
• Mello getting hurt
  
• Mello leaving him completely to become L

Strengths:

• Hacking
  
• Programming
  
• Will to act

Weaknesses:

• Paying attention
  
• Social skills
  
• Bribery

Specializations:

• Hacking
  
• Programming
  
• Calming Mello down

Matt is the type of person who likes to work from behind the scenes. He's not very big on spotlights unless it's in the eyes of Mello. Though, even then he tends to be on the procrastinating side. He would much rather play video games than anything else, especially work! Of course he gets this done, though, or else he wouldn't be in third place right behind Mello. Oh, speaking of which, Matt can often be found following Mello like a lost puppy. He looks up to Mello greatly and would do almost anything for his friend. When we say anything, what is meant is that he'll do it, but after he saves his game. He still needs to learn to take his eyes off the screen is he is going to go any further in his life. This is also a cause for his poor social skills. He doesn't handle others well and, in turn, may seem rude or uncaring. No, no. He just doesn't know how to interact. Unlike Mello he would rather not even yell at you for being an idiot, but instead take out his frustrations on Bowser and rescue Princess Peach who, in his mind only, looks like a long-haired Mello... with boobs.

It's not that he doesn't want to be your friend, really, just that he's satisfied with only Mello. He also doesn't like going outdoors or doing much physical activity. Actually, he doesn't like doing much beyond video games and hanging out with Mello... playing video games. He still keeps his room messy and unkept, but luckily Mello doesn't seem to mind too much. As long as he keeps his part of the mess on his own side.

TELL ME YOUR STORY
••

Family:
mother- name unregistered. relationship unstable. deceased.
father- name unregistered. relationship stable. deceased.
Heritage: english
Hometown: london, england
Birthplace: london, england

"Stop yelling at me!"

Here they go, again.

"All you do is prance around these social parties and drink!"

"And you don't?! You come home smelling like the bartender should! You always smell like--"

SLAP!

"Shut up! Shut up!"

"Living with you is just Hell! HELL!"

"I'll show you Hell!"

STOMP STOMP STOMP

And here sits our favorite person: Mail Jeevas, son of Arthur Jeevas and Ruth Jeevas. His naturally red hair lay in a mess atop his head while his eyes often dazzle strangers with their brilliant hazel mixture of dark brown and green. He is a fine specimen of radical genes, but his upkeep of it all was less than decent. All around where he sat now, at the age of five, was a mess. Why would he clean it? Maids would do their work while he continued playing his video games. Simple games as they would have at that time. Pacman was his current obsession as he watched the little munching ball travel along the dots and escape the colorful ghosts. He already had a strategy planned out, naturally, and finished the game in good time. This seemed to always be the case with games. He was running out of options and soon would have to ask someone to get him more if there were any. Even more games were sprawled out around him, decorating the floor with colors and names. This was his natural habitat. The clutter helped to ease his mind. When the floors were clean he found it easier for his ears to try and follow every bit of conversation that went on in this large home. He would much rather not bother with it. With the mess he could concentrate on his game and only pick up on the obvious signs that he was about to be involved.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

The door slammed open, just as practiced. This was not something new anymore. He continued to stare at the screen and ignored his mother's pleads to leave their boy alone. The man shoved her away and he listened to the crunch of one of his games being stepped on. His mother then made a thud as she hit the ground. It had probably been his Tetris game. He felt a twinge of anger at that, but left his face blank of anything but concentration on the screen. He felt his father kneel down next to him, giving him the same hard look he often would.

"You like these games, don't you?"

Silence

"I asked you a question!"

He watched the screen go blank as his father slammed his fist into the already beaten TV. They would need a new of for sure, now. Luckily he had saved just before this. This was only routine. This was why he didn't want any sort of relationship with anyone. He wasn't deaf or blind. He could see the way his parents treated each other and hear what the maids said behind their backs. They talked so openly around him because they know he wouldn't repeat it. He doesn't care. Repeating their words would only causing more ruckus. He just wanted to play his game.

He gazed up at his father with an unphazed expression. "Yeah," he responded shortly.

"Is there anything or anyone you like better than these games?" his father growled through gritted teeth. No doubt he was holding in clobbering his own son. Well, it was his own fault. Just as much as his mother and the maids spoiled him with games and a lack of rules, but his father was never around to correct them. He would just get frustrated when he'd come home for once and start finding reasons to scream at his wife.

"Baby. My baby loves me," he heard his mother say. "Don't you, baby? You love me, don't you?"

No Response

"Baby!"

"He doesn't love you! He only loves these stupid games! And do you know why?"

Mail let the noise drown out. He was no longer a part of his argument as far as he was concerned. He crawled around to the back of the large TV and started unplugging his game station. There would be another TV in the playroom. This was his room, and likely when he came back it would be clean. He would have to mess it up again. What a hassle. Nobody seemed to understand why he needed the clutter.

Mail Jeevas, born February 1, 1990. His father had inherited his grandfather's corporation and naturally fell into a favorable spot. Before Mail was born, Arthur had married a beautiful woman named Ruth. They seemed the perfect couple: Arthur was wealthy and Ruth was high in the social rankings. The perfect combo, if you will. Everything was as it should be, and soon they would have a child.

This was the twist. The child caused many problems among a household of parents that were probably too young at barely twenty. Stress caused a separation and alcohol kept them at bay, but when the drinks settled in they were like fire. Not in a good way, though. Mail had grown up learning to ignore the loud noises and enabled himself to keep focus on one thing: video games. At first he had nothing to amuse him and the maids were boring. Their petty attempts to be his friends just made him mad, so he quit trying to enjoy their company. As much as he hated his parents' arguments he certainly didn't hate them, and he was not about to listen to the maids' gossiping about them. He made this very clear, and now they speak at a distance. It was all for the better, though. As his social skills declined he found comfort in a virtual world that allowed him more freedom from this one. The only screaming he had to deal with was the princess in danger.

Mail was most certainly not a horrible child, but rather one that had become a drone. Everything in that house worked like clockwork, and he knew exactly when the clock would chime. So then why not go outdoors? No. It was no better out there. He simply didn't know how the clock worked, but he could distinctly find different bells. They would ring when the people spoke behind each other's backs and when the women would play with a man's heart. It was something he didn't fully comprehend, admittedly, but he would rather not. He just wanted to stay here where he could control everything.

This was life. It was simple at best, the only new things being the video games of which he was constantly supplied with. It was just easier this way, but it wasn't enough. The games were growing boring and this devastated him. If he grew bored of them entirely then what would he do? He wouldn't listen to his parents. He was determined to keep them out of his mind.

The trouble with clockwork, though, was that they eventually wore down. At some point it would... break.

SLAM!

Mail jumped up in his bed at the sound of his door slamming open. A burglar? No. Highly doubtful. This home was secure, wasn't it?

"Shut up and come," he heard the stern voice of his father say. Confused and dazed he allowed himself to be dragged out by the arm and to the outdoors. In the pitch black he heard a car door open and then felt himself lifted and thrown into a car seat. He heard the door shut behind him harshly and sat up in his seat, trying to focus his eyes. The night had no moon out. He listened for his father to enter the car as well and soon he did. The car started, the lights flashed onto the road, and then they were off.

The car ride was a silent one. Mail was contemplating what this could be. Was his father running out on them? And taking Mail with him? Not likely. Though Mail was seven and a little more tolerable he was still no different from before.

"... Where are we going?" Mail finally braved. He looked over then to see his father smile... Wait, smile? A genuine smile. He stared in awe at the sight.

"So I do have your attention?" he waited for his son to nod before continuing, "We're going to the store. A different store than what your mother takes you to."

Mail wondered why his father's voice sounded thrilled. What was he so happy about? He finally decided to let it go and watched the rode. Up ahead was a store. The night was still young, but without the moon if felt like midnight. He had gone to bed earlier than usual because it was quiet without either parent home. Perhaps this is what made it even more suspicious that his father- the man who was constantly using him against his own wife- was taking him anywhere unless he was about to get dumped.

They stopped near, indeed, a store he hadn't been to before. The name was familiar, though. It was the name of a company his father owned. The name will not be announced here, but the resources bought here were for airplanes and such. The building was large and inside was brightly lit. Everything was so neat and organized that it almost gave Mail a headache. Still, though, he walked alongside his dad and looked around.

Something caught his eye as they walked through isle 13. They had started at 1 and made there way here, but this was the first time he really looked at something.

"Do you like those?" his father asked, "They're goggles that pilots often wear when they go flying." He watched as his son picked out some orange-tinted ones and looked through them. He laughed and helped his son put them on. "Perfect!" he said, "Would you like to have them?"

Mail looked up at his father with surprise once more. Was his dad really going to buy him these? His father didn't even buy him things for his birthday. It was always his mother, but the smothering love had suffocated him too much. This, however, was nice. He could pick out something on his own.

"You'll probably be owning this store, did you know that?"

Oh, so this is what it was about...

"But would you really want to?" he then said suddenly. Mail looked at his father again, sliding the goggles off his eyes and onto his forehead. "I know you like gaming more. Maybe we could start a new business in games?"

Mail's eyes grew wide and, perhaps for the first time, he hugged his father. That would be amazing! Would it really happen? Somehow he didn't care about his promise to himself not to get close to anyone. This was the first time anyone tried to get close to him without drowning him in affection. This felt nice. He could breath easy.

But within a year this wonderful life would fade. Mother wasn't happy about her son's suddenly enthusiasm about his father. She would not stand for it after all she had done for the boy. If she couldn't have him, then nobody else could.

It happened when Mail and his father were returning from a meeting. Mail has been going along with his dad to see what it was like. It was still boring, but interesting. He would just play his handheld games and smile at the looks the men gave him at the noises the game made. It was just like all the other meetings.

Sirens screamed louder and louder as they neared home, smoke clouding the blue sky above. When they saw what was happening, they peered in horror at their home in flames. The firemen were doing all that they could to reach the farthest window. Someone was there. Mail's father quickly stopped the car and jumped out to see who it was. Mail followed and looked up to see his mother's face. Was she stuck? Could she not get out?

Something clicked in his mind, but before he could do anything his father was already running toward the house. Firemen rushed to stop him but could not reach him in time. He had run into the house to save the woman that he really did still care for. Mail watched as the flames rose and soon his mother's face vanished. Somehow he couldn't speak. Men dragged him further away to safety, but his eyes never left the window. Would he see a face? Both parent's faces? But alas, nobody seemed to be home, anymore.

When the flames died and the firemen rushed the building, Mail was in complete shock. He listened to the words around him, but drowned them out. The maids were all inside, dead. When they found the owners' bodies it seemed the woman had held onto the dad and kept him there. She had tied herself to the bed post to keep from leaving. Mail could only think that she had been hoping that Mail had also been there.

So he was moved to an orphanage. All immediate family were gone. His parents had been only children and his grandparents had long since passed away. He was alone. How convenient. He could go back to playing his games at an orphanage as the runner up in his father's company took over. No will had been left behind which meant that Mail would get nothing.

As fate would have it, while sitting down and playing games, the other orphans giggled in delight as somebody entered the room. Likely another set of parents or such looking for a child. He ignored the presence and continued playing his games. He wanted nothing more to do with families.

"Excuse me," he heard the voice of an elder man say. Mail continued to ignore him. He heard the man chuckle. "You're very goods with games I hear? And a very smart boy." Mail just stared at the screen.

"He's not very sociable. I'm sorry," Mail heard the familiar woman's voice say.

"That's perfect." Mail finally looked up at the man's strange comment. "I'll take him."

Mail didn't really have any choice, did he? He packed up what belongings he had and dragged his feet all the way to the car. The ride was a long one and he eventually feel asleep. When he woke up it was dark outside, but the car was slowing. A large building stood before them, the lights still on. What memories this brought.

"Welcome to the Wammy House." The old man smiled and got out of the car to help Mail get out. Mail was quick to get out himself, though. "Oh, and Mr. Jeevas," Mail looked up at the odd use of his name, "From now on you are Matt. Don't tell anyone your real name."

His real name? Why not? What kind of place was this? But whatever. He would go along with it for now. Maybe it would make it easier to move on?... Matt... Maybe he could get used to this?

And during his mere first year he was able to ascend the ranks. He would be roughly nine, now, and still just as unsociable as ever... Only, there was one problem. The child ranking second was hot-headed and not about to give up his position to someone who was new. Some confrontation ensued, but it was odd how things turned out. Mello, as the boy was called, was perhaps the first person he'd gotten this close to? He even often looked for the boy when he was bored. Was it so odd? Yeah, it was, but he couldn't help but feel like a lost puppy and follow the other boy around. He liked being around Mello for some reason. For the first time it was like he felt okay with having someone close to him. And besides, being with this boy was fun. His temperament was always a joy to watch. While he remained unsociable with everyone else, he continued to further his relationship with Mello. Perhaps this friendship would last a long time?

YOU'RE GONNA GO FAR, KID
••

Name: NC
Age: eighteen
Experience: seven years
Codeword: Don't Look Here.
Fun fact: i luff you all.
Sample Post:

[ this is older Matt. and, by the way, i do tend to make game comparisons in my posts with him. ]

Jump up, then A. Blast the enemy. Kick, then hide from the Boss. Scurry left, then another jumpkick and hide again. Wait until the Boss has moved over to come back up and kick more evil monkey ass. It was just a program in the testing stages, but he'd managed to get ahold of it. It was pretty surprising how fun it was to battle an evil Donkey Kong and his little chimp friend. All he needed was that golden banana now and then he'd be able to defeat DK with ease. It wasn't hard to level up which he would consider a flaw in the game. Oh! And it probably wasn't a good idea to haver your character looking like Indiana Jones, either.

Dressed in the usual attire nowadays of goggles, black and white striped shirt, black gloves, blue jeans and black boots, this young man ventured down the sidewalk casually in the dark of night. Sure it was about to rain, but he'd get back to the room in time... probably.

He reached a gloved hand up to scratch at the red hair on his head before adjusting the goggles properly on his forehead. His blue eyes scanned the in game territory before actually looking up toward the "IRL" street. He... saw an interesting character, too. Much better than Indiana Jones. Medium length blonde hair and bangs in an oddly familiar shape with a rather dark appearance. Hmm... It really was odd how he suddenly felt some butterflies running rampant in his stomach. Why was this guy so familiar?

Oh no. No way. It couldn't be, right? And coming out of McD's, too! The chance of it being who he thought it was was one in.. ah heck, he didn't know. It was just super unlikely, right? Like beating Sephiroth at the beginning of the game, you know? Impossible! But there was always a cheat that allowed you to do it anyway, no matter how unrealistic it was. What buttons had he pressed to get this to happen?

For once pausing the game he walked over to the figure, raising a brow as he looked the other over. When he finally came face to face with the guy he spoke.

"... Hey, do I know you?" If he said yes, it was probably Mello. It wasn't like Matt had changed much except for height, really. He was still the same game-addicted, redheaded kid from Wammy, but... Wow, was that a scar? What all had he missed? This really sucks... Like skipping thirty pages in the guide book, you just wander around until woah! How did this event happen? Heh. Oops.

[Rhiatte]

Accepted, definitely. Welcome to the site!