Kanra has entered the chatroom.

Kanra: So have you all heard? The missing immigrants case has gone completely cold! The police are at a loss for what to do! It's like they just... disappeared... not a trace of those bodies to be found...

Taro Tanaka: WHAT!? That's horrible?!

Kanra : Mhmmmmm how creepy is that, lol?

Setton: Why are you always so morbid?!

Kanra: No, no, no not morbid, lol! I Just want my besties to be aware when they're out and about! If you're not careful, they might nab you by accident :)

Setton: "Besties?"

Kanra has left the chatroom.

A soft breeze washes over the street, whirling a few leaves around the curb. It's pleasant out tonight, making the wait in Club de Bokor's mile long line marginally more bearable. Saki dragged you out after hearing their Fright Night Halloween Bash was killer- evidently, half of Ikebukuro had heard the same thing.

"If they don't hurry up, we're going to enter and they'll be left out in huge cold!" You insist to Saki. She's bouncing on her toes wearing a sheer white dress—if it was long enough to qualify—cut dangerously low with white sliver pumps. Shimmering, feathery wings sprout from her back, fluttering with the slightest breeze, and a silver halo hovers delicately atop her head.

You peek down at your Flo the Progressive Insurance Girl costume, feeling the slightest bit self-conscious. The line is brimming with voluptuous succubi and not-so-innocent schoolgirls. The market price for cloth must be expensive these days, you think. They spare you glances that suggest you are sorely out of place, a Raggedy Ann among Barbies. Screw it- you would blind them with your can-I-help-you smile and irritate them with your corny car puns.

"Relax, they'll be here. They're just going on Kida Standard Time! Besides nurses are supposed to be patient- geddit?" Saki giggles, struggling to peer at the interior from behind the hulking bouncer.

"Not a nurse, Flo the Progressive Insurance Girl!" You hiss, affronted.

"Ooh, here he comes!" She says, elbowing you in the ribs. "Quick, how do I look? Kida Masomi is going to pay attention to me if it's the last thing he does!" Now probably wouldn't be the best time to inform her Kida had hit on you… repeatedly. And Anri Sonohara. And the hot new twenty-something substitute. And the waitress at Russia Sushi.

"Ladiesssss," Kida purrs, sauntering up cane a-twirl in a steampunk vampire costume. He tips his hat to you, bending in a deep bow, before offering a fanged grin. Saki claps in delight, marveling at he detail of his cape.

The prospect of falling to third wheel status rears it's ugly head. Inwardly, you groan. "What happened to Mikado and Anri?"

"Couldn't make it," Kida answers with a pout. "Mikado's prepping for finals and Anri has a paper due. Cool nurse costume though."

"FLO THE PROGRESSIVE INSURANCE GIRL!"

You shoot Saki a withering look from over Kida's billowing cape. Third wheel status confirmed. She is saved when the Bouncer orders your group to enter, sweeping you in under the velvet rope with a big, meaty hand.

Purple, red, and green lights streak around the room, as shadows play across the walls. Strobe lights flash chaotically, throbbing in beat to the deafening music. You are beginning to see how stupid things happened—how easy it was to get lost in the dark, passionate night-

"Ahh, Flo the Insurance girl, hmm?" someone purrs from behind you.

"You were the first person that actually got that!" you exclaim, laughing. Whirling around, you find piercing carmine eyes monitoring your every move. The stranger is surprisingly close to you; so close, you can feel his hot breath wash down your neck. Your trepidation at his proximity must show, because he smirks devilishly.

"Well you can service me anytime," he invites, nibbling the cuff of your ear. His directness—and ministrations— paralyze you; your breath hitched in your throat. How can he be so loose with someone he had never seen before? Crap, crap, crap this is exactly you hate being roped into Saki and Kida's shenanigans. Bracing your hands on his chest, you shove him as hard as you can; he hardly moves an inch. In response, he digs his nails into your flesh, pulling you so tightly into his chest you swear you are suffocating.

"Good thing you didn't need to waste money on a costume Izaya—you came as a jackass," someone snaps. One vampiric Kida Masomi glares daggers into this man, this Izaya, with Saki right at his heels. The blonde is clenching his fists so hard that, even in the murky air of the club, you see his knuckles turning a blinding white. Saki clutches his arm tightly, but eyes fixed on you.

"You alright?" she mouths from behind him.

You give your head a slight incline in affirmation, never letting your attention stray from Izaya. Speaking of which, he is looking mighty pleased, considering the circumstances. Rather than vehemently deny Kida's accusations, Izaya basks in their glory.

"This party wouldn't be the same without a crasher, now would it?" he says, voice soft and smoky, as he releases you.

Saki darts to catch you as you stumble backwards, cradling you in her arms.

"Kida, it's okay, let's just go," you mutter under your breath, avoiding Saki's questioning glance.

If Kida heats you, he doesn't show it. "Of course not, it got worse because of you. The air reeks of self-righteous bastard! Leave Saki and _ alone!" Kida growls.

"But if I left them alone," Izaya says innocently, "there would be no one left to protect them. Unless, of course, Saki has faith in your track record?"

One well-placed comment is all it takes to put Kida out like a candle flame. He blanches, gripping his stomach as though nauseous, and storms away. Saki shoots you an apologetic glance and bolts after him.

"Well," starts Izaya as he redirects his attention to you, "parting is such sweet sorrow. The brat was right about one thing though—this party bites. It's been fun—"

"But we haven't had a proper introduction..." he hisses in your ear. "Guess I'll need something to remember you by!"

With that, he rips off your blue jacket and dashes away.

"Hey!" you shriek indignantly. Following suit, you race madly after Izaya as he weaves expertly through the undulating crowds. That kind of speed takes training, you muse, most likely as a pickpocket. Much to the bouncer's chagrin, the two of you explode out of Club de Bokor like a pair of crazed preschoolers taking a game of tag way too seriously. His threats against coming back fall on deaf ears, however, as Izaya baits you with your jacket.

"Toro, toro!" he roars, playing matador. Izaya dangles your jacket in the air, whisking it out of your reach the second you got close. The teasing was maddening, you are nothing more than the dog which can never quite sink its teeth into the bone.

"You know, I think I'll call you little Bull-chan," he muses to himself, wrenching the jacket out of your hands just as you collide with a passerby.

"I-i'm so sorry, sir!" you stutter out, face flushing. "You see, he won't return my jacket and-"

You fall silent.

"I thought I told you to steer your punk-ass clear of Ikebukuro, rat," snarls Shizuo, shoving you aside to get to Izaya. You realize that you are probably one of the few people who feels relief upon seeing Shizuo Heiwajima. "Now give the nice lady back the jacket because I don't want to stain it with your blood."

"It's all yours," Izaya said pleasantly. He flashes you a smirk before throwing your jacket at Shizuo's face. Swearing loudly, Shizuo struggles to disengage himself, giving Izaya just enough time to disappear around the corner. By the time Shizuo manages to rip the jacket off his face, Izaya has long since fled the scene.

It was a dirty trick, but it had certainly done the job.

"Hey, you okay?" you ask uncertainly, laying a hand on Shizuo's arm.

"It was a jacket, not an axe," he replies dryly. "Although I probably could have taken that too."

Suddenly, a chorus of shrieks errupts from within the club. The Bouncer is loudly ordering everyone in the vicinity to stay calm in vain. The line of potential clients before the club vanishes as people tear past you in all directions. Over his bulky shoulder, you think you spot a sort of moving... mass but you can't be sure. What can you be sure of in the night of masks and tricks?

Shizuo leaps to attention with an angry roar.
"IF THAT PUNK WORMED HIS WAY BACK IN THERE SO HELP ME I'LL-"

"That's impossible, Shizuo," you murmur anxiously, "because he just turned the corner across the street..."

You exchange solemn glances with the bartender, unsure what to do.

"Shizuo, I think something's wrong-"

"No shit."

"I'm serious," you urge. "Not a fistfight or a danceoff or something stupid; I think something's really-"

The Bouncer's bloodcurdling howl stops you cold; he is digging his fingernails into the doorframe for dear life, as some sort of unseen force is trying to drag him back in. You glance around, desperate for a solution. In less than twenty minutes, the raring night life of Ikebukuro has come to a dead halt; the streets are completely void of life, save for the chaos pounding within Club de Bokor. No beggars, no con artists, no policemen, nothing.

"Don't move," Shizuo hisses. "I'll be right back."

The words hardly leave his mouth when the shrieks halt abruptly.

"What the hell is this?!" Shizuo growls. "What the hell is going on? Some idiotic prank?!"

You are so fixated on the eerily quiet state of Club de Bokor, that the clammy hands wrapping around your neck come as a total surprise.