Title: A Fate Worse Than Death
Summary: In which Balalaika, thanks to Rock's puppy-dog-eyes, decides to allow Gretel to live – provided that she can prove herself capable of living a normal life. In an attempt to kill two birds with one stone, the Russian woman sends the remaining twin to a certain info broker who owes her a favor. Tasked with caring for one person who thinks they're a pair of twins, a pair of twins who think they're one person, and two freelancer teenagers, will Izaya be able to score with his secretary?
Characters: Orihara Izaya, Gretel, Yagiri Namie, Kida Masaomi, Mikajima Saki, Orihara Mairu, Orihara Kururi, Rock, Balalaika, Revy, Shenhua, Heiwajima Shizuo, Kishitani Shinra, Celty Sturluson, Mr. Chang, Kuronuma Aoba, Vorona
Pairings: Izaya/Namie, Masaomi/Saki, Aoba/Kururi, Rock/Revy, Mairu/Gretel, Shinra/Celty, possible Shizuo/Vorona, referenced Mikado/Anri and Seiji/Mika
Warnings: Crack, sibling love (creepy and not creepy), foul language
AN: Basically, Balalaika trolls everyone, Izaya and Rock try to get laid, Kida and Saki are the world's most adorkable creepers, Namie and Revy bitch a lot, Kururi lords her ginormous boobs over everyone, and Mairu and Gretel try to out-gay each other.
It is said by so-called 'experts' that most criminals are foolish, and only became criminals because they were too damn retarded to accomplish anything else. Perhaps that is true. However, even the most notoriously stupid of criminals wasn't stupid enough to do something extremely fucking dangerous. There were very few things in existence that were considered 'extremely fucking dangerous' by the people of Roanapur, if only because the majority of said people lived extremely fucking dangerous lives.
Despite the supposed (and often quite accurate) stupidity of the criminals in Roanapur, there were rules that people were expected to follow. These rules were not written down, because, as far as the gangs were concerned, anyone dumb enough to ignore the rules got exactly what was coming to them. 1. Don't mess with the Lagoon Company. 2. Don't mess with the Hong Kong Triad. 3. Don't mess with Hotel Moscow. 4. Don't mess with the Rip-Off Church. 5. Leave the CIA alone, and they'll leave you alone (and they'll possibly also help you out if the NSA gets involved). 6. Don't get involved with anyone dressed as maid; she can and will kick your ass. 7. Regardless of how he or she may appear, anyone who has stood up to Balalaika or Mr. Chang (or, in rare cases, both), and lived to tell about it, is to be respected and feared. 8. No one will judge you for mocking the Colombian Cartel, so long as you do it where they can't hear you. 9. Buying meat from U. G. Pork is going to increase your chances of diseases like kuru. 10. If an outsider comes in and starts acting like he (or she) owns the place, mortal enemies are allowed to team up to get rid of them.
50% of the time, breaking one of these rules was tantamount to suicide. 80% of the time, breaking two of these rules meant you were either dead, wishing you were dead, or in for a very nasty surprise. 99.9% of the time, breaking more than two of those rules meant that you were currently in a ditch, with your lungs a good ten feet away in another ditch. One man, however, had not only broken seven of these rules, but had escaped without a single scratch. His name was Okajima Rokuro, better known as Rock.
Rock worked for the Lagoon Company, had called Mr. Chang an 'inhuman piece of shit' over the phone, had called out Balalaika twice over her callousness, had gotten involved with people dressed as maids multiple times, had stood up to Balalaika and Mr. Chang and fucking Revy Two-Hands and was still standing, and half the town was convinced that he was from – or had least had a contact from – the CIA. Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that he had no mortal enemies and was too polite to mock anyone he wasn't working with, people would've been watching to see when he broke the rest of the rules. As it was, no one would have been surprised to see him eating something packaged by Sawyer the Cleaner at this point. After all, someone who had survived this long in Roanapur without ever killing anyone, apparently had a death wish the size of Revy's repair bill from the Yellow Flag, and could still hold onto his ideals? There had to be something wrong with him.
What people didn't know was this: not only had Rock managed to get this far without killing anyone, he had also saved a life. In any other town, this wouldn't have been very impressive. But this was Thailand. Roanapur, Thailand. If one were to ask someone what he felt his greatest accomplishment was, the response would depend on the person asked. If you asked Revy, his greatest accomplishment would be sleeping with her. If you asked Balalaika, Mr. Chang, Benny, or Dutch, his greatest accomplishment would be surviving this long. If you asked a member of the Lovelace family, you would likely get several nasty looks and a couple new holes.
However, if you asked Rock himself – if you managed to get him on his own, without Two-Hands, Balalaika, or Mr. Chang around – you would learn that, as far as he was concerned, his greatest accomplishment was the time he had wrapped his arms around the newest member of the Lagoon crew, and said three words.
"Welcome home, Gretel."
*One year earlier*
"Silence, Rock." The cold voice of the Russian woman cut through the already tense air like a chainsaw through a soon-to-be-dead person. Ice blue eyes met terrified brown as both Rock and Balalaika ignored Revy's hisses of 'shut up you fucking idiot dammit shut your damn fucking mouth you brainless fuck'. The Romanian girl (or boy, possibly) standing behind Rock tilted her head to the side in a curious manner, as if unaware of the danger she was in. She wasn't, of course, unaware of anything, but it was pointless to try and escape now, and she was curious to see how far this man she barely knew would go to protect her.
"No way!" Rock yelled. "You think I'm just gonna stand by and watch you gun down a little girl who just lost her brother?"
"You think I'm just going to let her get away with murdering my men?" the blonde woman responded. "She's not a little girl, Rock, she's an insane murderer."
"No one ever gave her a chance!" Rock insisted.
"So what?" Revy snapped. "No one gave me a damn chance; where the hell were you then? Besides, you can't change the past, so get out of the way and let Sis end this already!"
"I can't so that," Rock said quietly. "I just can't."
"Why not?" Gretel asked. Rock turned to her, surprised. "Why are you trying to save me? It doesn't matter, because we're eternal."
"You aren't eternal!" Rock's fists clenched as he spoke. "You're a little girl who got thrown away by the world and turned into a monster!"
"Exactly," said Balalaika. "Now get out of the way, and I'll rid the world of her, once and for all."
"If you're going to get rid of monsters, turn that gun on yourself!" Rock yelled furiously. "You can't deny her the right to a normal life!"
"She is no longer capable of leading one," said Boris, stepping forward. "That little girl could never–"
"You don't know that!" Rock snapped. He was shaking. "Please… please, just give her a chance! Just… just one chance…" Balalaika looked down at him.
"And what form do you suggest this chance come in?" she asked, amused. "I certainly hope you don't think I'll allow you to raise her." Rock was silent.
"Why not?" he said suddenly. "What if you give her a year – just one year, that's all I'm asking – to prove that she's capable of being helpful to us? I'll take responsibility for her, and–"
"And if she can't, you'll die alongside her?" Balalaika raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. I certainly don't need that brat slaughtering the entirety of the Lagoon Company." Rock took a step back, pulling Gretel to his side.
"Just one chance." He repeated. Balalaika was silent for a moment, as if thinking it over.
"If I might interrupt?" the Lagoon crew and the members of Hotel Moscow turned to Boris, who had a contemplative look on his face. "What if we gave her to someone who owes us a favor? That informant never paid us back for the mishap that happened during our deal with the Awakusu-kai, and this might be a good way to, so to speak, kill two birds with one stone."
"Very well." the Russian woman turned to face Rock, casting a quick glare at Gretel. She waved a hand, and Boris pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and began talking rapidly in Russian. "You will send the brat to Shinjuku. All travel expenses will be coming out of your wallet, Rock, as you're essentially a client for your own business. The brat will leave all weapons behind and will have exactly one year – three hundred and sixty-five days, no more – to prove that she is capable of living a normal life. Should she fail, both she and her caretaker will be killed, as will you. Are we clear?" Relief swept through the Japanese man, and he collapsed to his knees embracing the girl whose life he'd just saved.
"Yes. Thank you," he breathed. Balalaika's lip curled.
"That empathy will be the death of you," she noted. Balalaika met the curious eyes of the child she had – on a whim – allowed to live. "One chance." She said simply. "No more. If you take even one life in the next year, I'll have the three of you killed anyway. Understand, you little bitch?" Gretel nodded, deciding not to speak.
"So, this guy lives in Japan?" Revy asked, trying (for once) to ease the tension.
*Three weeks later; 11:48 pm*
Gretel stepped off the boat, looking around. Balalaika cleared her throat, and the young girl turned to face her.
"Your caretaker will be sending someone to pick you up," she said coolly. "At midnight, your year will start. Don't fuck it up." Gretel nodded, wondering if going along with this was the best idea. She could probably escape, but Rock would certainly be killed, and she wasn't too sure if she liked the thought of that. Out of nowhere, Revy blanched.
"Shit." The gunslinger swore. "Hey brat, do you know Japanese?" There was an awkward silence, in which no one missed the vindictive smirk on Balalaika's face.
"No, I don't," Gretel answered. "Rock taught me a little on the way over, though." Footsteps could be heard on the dock, and the odd group turned to see a gorgeous woman walking toward them, an annoyed look on her beautiful face.
"It doesn't matter whether she does or not," the woman said, in slightly accented English. "That bastard speaks pretty much every language known to man."
"Indeed." Balalaika's lip curled. "Care to explain why he couldn't be bothered to come himself? I'm afraid I didn't get an adequate response." The woman snorted.
"That's a good thing," she replied. "If he'd bothered to answer you, you likely would've gotten a load of crap. He's not here because he thinks it's funny to make me do his dirty work. That, and he's in a meeting right now."
"I see." Said the Russian. "Very well then." Rock led Gretel forward.
"This is Gretel," he said. "Please don't be too harsh on her."
"I don't care who she is," the woman told him. "So long as I get my paycheck. I just hope that that bastard doesn't expect me to babysit the brat." Balalaika nodded.
"Fair enough." She said. "I'll return in a year, probably to kill you." Gretel blinked, not looking very concerned.
"Oh, okay." She looked up at the new woman. "I'm Gretel." She told her.
"I'm aware," said the woman coolly. "And I honestly couldn't care less." She turned on her heel, walking back to her car. With one last glance at Rock (who gave her a tentative grin and a hopeful nod), Gretel followed.
"…We're screwed," Revy stated. "You know that, right?" Rock sighed.
"Yeah. Sorry."
*Twenty-seven minutes later; 12:15 pm*
"I'm Gretel," Gretel introduced herself again.
"Are you now?" her new caretaker asked.
"Would you like proof?" she returned.
"Considering who you are and what you're like, I think I'll just take your word for it," he smirked at her. "My name, as you were undoubtedly already told, is Isaiah Orihara." She tilted her head.
"I was told that your name was 'Orihara Izaya'," she said, not really caring.
"In Japanese, yes," Izaya agreed. "But we're speaking English. You did get the pronunciation right, though, so congrats. Most people can't even read my first name." The woman, whose name remained a mystery to Gretel, snorted.
"That would be because your name is spelled in the most absurd manner that your parents could find," she sneered. Izaya clasped a hand across his chest, sighing as dramatically as possible.
"You wound my fragile heart, Namie-san," he chirped. The woman – Namie, apparently – rolled her eyes, and returned to organizing a large stack of files.
"What do I do now?" Gretel asked. Izaya shrugged.
"Unpack, I suppose," he offered. "It was short notice, but I do have a spare room aside from the one Namie-san uses when she decides that she can't get enough of me and–" the aforementioned woman smacked his head. "Namie-san!"
"You mean, the room I use when you overwork me, or decide you want me to make you breakfast, or if you remember that you don't have any friends and want me to sleep over so you can pretend that there's someone on the face of this planet who cares about your worthless ass." she snapped, stalking out of the room.
"…She wants me," Izaya decided. Gretel blinked.
"You don't seem like a very good judge of character," she decided. Izaya pouted, not looking the slightest bit ashamed.
"Whatever," he waved her off. "Namie will show you to your room, and I'll find something for us to do later. However, it's almost half past midnight, which means we're all going to bed." He stood up and stretched. "Feel free to let Namie-san know that she's welcome to join me." Gretel stared at his back as he walked off towards what must be his room, before turning and trotting after Namie.
AN: I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I'm not apologizing. This story is mostly humor-based, but there are a few serious moments as well as a mangled thing that might once have been a potential plot. Oh, well. See you!
