"Yes! I have done it!" Izaya screamed in glee.

Beneath him, there were people of varying ages swinging weapons and screaming at each other in primal rage. They were all in the middle of combat; blood was spilled and the law enforcement were doing nothing but exciting the opposing parties. If one were looking past the debris of destruction, one might have seen that there were three primary colors in the war. Blue, yellow, and red were the three main forces that dominated the 'war,' as the young information broker had put it.

There was a smile of pure malice on his face as he sat atop of a building, witnessing the primal beauty of humanity in its purest form. This is what humans were only meant for, he concluded. To be perfectly capable of nasty deeds and masking them with acts of senseless charity, he thought viciously. To the black haired man, the sight of blood spilling all over the streets of Ikebukuro looked like Vincent Van Gogh had painted it himself.

The many colors and of the gangs were littered all over the ground. It was almost like a childlike artist had strewn the contents of his pastels all over the floor of his bedroom.

Izaya laughed. Who else would be this artist but himself? Now that he illustrated what seemed to be the greatest war in the history of this reputable part of Tokyo, Celty might—

Ah, speak of the devil.

With trembling fingers, he unscrewed the clear jar that rested beside him and pulled the head out of her resting place. Now that the commotion was steadily growing louder and the police sirens were now blaring all over the place, like a wayward orchestra of hysterical middle schoolers, the head was now waking up. Izaya basked in it all.

However, there was only one obstacle in his way.

Slipping off his face faster than Celty's motorcycle can run, Izaya's smile began to noticeably become strained.

It seemed that the Fortissimo of Ikebukuro knew that he was behind all of this.

"No matter," the information broker reasoned to himself. Even though he didn't like that there was one person who saw through his deceptions like they were mere child's things, he knew that he his tracks were hidden so well so that no one would trace the war back to him. People would turn on one another. Gangs were bound to look at one another in confusion, later mistrust. These seeds would grow more and more tangible…hence this war that was erupting right now.

He was safe. The only thing that he had to do right now was getting rid of this unsightly abomination.

"Ah, my dear Shizu-chan!" The man waved his hands as if welcoming the brute over. "You look as peaceful as your fitting namesake." Even though the sly man sounded like he was only talking about the weather like it was any other day, there was still an edge to his tone. For once, the blonde muscle man was smart enough to realize that he was goading him on. That didn't stop the bespectacled man from biting out a few threats.

"Shut up. Just shut up," the blonde seethed. His hands were continuously clenching and unclenching. It was evidence that he was holding back the rage that wanted out from his lean body. "I don't know what you did to those people, but you had no right!"

A slim black eyebrow arched into a perfect curve. A small smile accented his lips as Izaya stroked the auburn strands of the female head that rested comfortably in his arms. While the war was being waged in the streets, the sounds of murmurs and grunts were heard as the woman seemed to be waking up. It shouldn't be long now…

"I have no clue of what you are talking about." Izaya turned his back on the monster and looked over the edge of the building, mindful that he was dealing with this insipid bartender. One shouldn't be too careful when dealing with idiots on the level of this Neanderthal. "Besides, the only thing I did was simply talk with them about their allies. Nothing more and nothing less." A laugh fell easily from his bloodless lips.

"Turn yourself in," Shizuo warned. "I don't care if you're alive, I want you gone. I want you to be punished for what you have been doing for the past few years." If it weren't for the fact that there was the sweet cacophony of screams in the background, Izaya would have been dismayed at the lack of brutality that the man usually displayed. Whatever was wrong with Shizuo, it wasn't his business, Izaya thought. He will have to dismiss Shizuo's oddly calm behavior for now. "Do it."

"Ah, ah, Shizu-chan!" Izaya playfully waggled his fingers in Shizuo's general direction. "Don't you see what I have done here? I have created life, a new beginning where I can start anew!" The broker burst into haphazard cackles. "Don't you see how pathetic and asinine these little creatures look? I guess this is how God feels like…" He spread his arms wide, as if he was a majestic bird waiting for the winds to become favorable. "That's what I have been doing all this time, you know." Izaya looked at Shizuo expectantly, obviously waiting for a retort or a response from him.

"As if I keep tabs on a jabbering flea in my free time," the blonde growled. Any moment now and the debt collector knew that he was going to let loose all of his frustrations on this cowardly nuisance. Pfft, as if this thing that resembled human life deserved to live.

"That's where everyone has fallen flat! You should have put me in my place when I was human like the rest of the scum! Ah, but that's why I love humans… You never seem to realize when you're all being played for fools." His dark eyes became, if possible, darker than before. "And that's why I hate you."

Shizuo rolled his eyes, ignoring how Izaya drew his hands into the folds of his signature coat.

"Already knew that, you lowlife."

"No, no," Izaya sneered hatefully. "I hate you. Humans can live and die by their own hands, but you! You are mine." With lightning reflexes, Izaya took the knife from his pocket and without any warning, launched the sharp projectile into Shizuo's heart. The blonde looked stunned for a second, almost like a bee had stung him. Before he could take the knife away from his chest, the debt collector collapsed onto the floor. Izaya turned away from the gruesome scene. It was bad enough that he had to dirty his hands with the creature's disgusting blood.

The only reason why Izaya failed to kill the monster in the past was that he didn't care enough and the blonde was somewhat critical in the big scheme of things. In other words, Izaya was faintly amused, but all toys needed to be thrown away one day.

"How interesting." The voice sounded like the breeze in the spring. Cool, calm, and simply comfortable, the voice sounded completely out of place amid the sonance of the mêlée.

Izaya nearly dropped what he was carrying into the ruckus below. He looked down at the head, finding himself staring at the brilliant green eyes of the head that he so carefully kept for many years. Most ordinary men would have ran, screaming at the sight of this body part saying something out of the blue. Instead, the brunette smiled prettily at her, a look of accomplishment on his features. The time had come for him to reap the benefits. "Did you wake me up?"

"Of course," Izaya replied. There were a million thoughts going on inside of his head, many of which were centered on the Dullahan's head. This was his moment to take what he had desired for so many years now. "I assume that you woke up because of the war below, correct?"

It was obvious from his proud tone of voice that he was pleased to note that his theories on the supernatural were turning out to be correct.

"If you can call it that." The head frowned as she somehow moved herself so that she was angled to view the chaos below. There was something akin to disappointment on her delicate features, but Izaya still felt like this experience was still valuable in waking the head up. "It's more of a rabble."

"It's the modern day world; what can you do?" Izaya sighed. Okay, so this might not have gone as planned. Somewhere along the line, it seemed that supernatural creatures like her suddenly went from shadowy creatures of the night to being some sassy woman. It was almost human, but Izaya pushed that far into the alcoves of his mind. He decided to change the subject. "Anyways, I imagine you would be indebted to the person who woke you from your nap!"

Izaya brought the head closer to his own so that they were eye to eye. Curiosity, a bit of listlessness, and a few other emotions were seen in her green eyes. For once in his life, the slimy flew felt fear settle in his gut. This mythical creature could easily destroy him with skills that he could not comprehend. Sweat began to gather on his brow as the head simply stared at him in an analytical manner. Just when Izaya was about to speak up, the displaced head began to communicate.

"I suppose I am…what would you have me do?"

Without any hesitation, Izaya began to plow onward with his request. "Send me to Valhalla. Send me so that I know that there's something out there when I do." If it weren't for his reputation as Ikebukuro's infamous, coldhearted information broker, his entreaties would have sounded like desperate, petty pleas.

"What a tall order." A small smile fluttered onto her face as the woman's eyes still bore into Izaya's own. "What would happen if I told you that such a place doesn't exist? What would you do then?"

For once, Izaya was at a loss for words. That was it? When a person dies, nothing happens? That couldn't be the truth. That shouldn't be the truth to what happened to mortals! All of his life he had been planning to trick death, to almost become a god in his own right. To hear that there was nothing waiting for him on the other side was a complete blow to his pride.

"What do you mean…I can't just die and expect to cease to exist!"

"That's what dying is all about isn't it?" There was a confused expression on the woman's face as she questioned the young man. Concern and slight amusement painted her expression as she studied the mortal holding her in his trembling hands. His sanity was clearly fraying at the edges, but he still held her in a responsible grip. "It's a test on whether or not you actually did something worthwhile when alive. Assuming from your paling visage, I suppose that you haven't done anything of the sort. Again, what would you have me do? Time is becoming short, I must become one with the rest of my body."

"What about reincarnation? Please, I rather not die and just become…nothing." Strong, resilient Izaya Orihara was on the edge of becoming insane. Light was still flickering in his eyes, a sign of vain hope still in there, but he knew that everything would end if the fairy said no.

Seconds passed as the head silently assessed the mortal. There were questions dancing in her bright eyes, but her other half still called out to her. This negotiation would have to be hastened, regardless if whether the human was making the right decision or not.

"Hmm, I suppose that would be a fair trade since you did wake me." The woman smiled demurely at him. The look on her face was eerily reminiscent of an expression that was usually on his own. It was an expression that screamed that there was something deeper than what she was letting on. It was so disconcerting that Izaya felt himself swallow heavily. "Very well, say goodbye to this world."

Before Izaya could protest or begin to gloat in his victory, the man felt himself slipping away from Earth. His body fell on the ground, but he felt his essences slip into the blackened air. The cried of the warriors below were like the final notes of an opera drawing to a close.

He was sitting on the rooftops of a building in Japan. There were people milling about even though the atmosphere was dark and the light was waning. It amused—or whatever his kind's equivalent to this emotion was—him to know that if it weren't for his kind, these creatures would still be cowering in the shadows. Even though he had existed ever since the dawn of humans, there was still something niggling at the back of his mind. It was like he was forgetting something very important to him.

Ever since he was born, he knew that there was something different about him. There was a streak of cunning, something that wasn't exactly a medical condition in his kind, but it was close enough. Time and time again, he found himself omitting various pieces of information for no other reason than to elicit a reaction. It was perturbing to know that he was knowingly doing these things, but he felt like a god. Sometimes he wondered whether or not this was normal to feel like this. Something told him that this was a key to whatever he was forgetting in the first place.

Shaking his head so it almost looked like a normal Earth animal, he decided to put that in the back of his mind. Despite him wanting to know what he was forgetting, he still had to focus on the job bequeathed to him. He still needed to find new magical girls to fulfill the quota of this universe.

His keen ruby red eyes scanned the people below, his blank visage taking in all the females, cataloguing in features and ages. Just when the creature thought it best to retire for the night, he finally spotted someone wailing in despair at a bus stop.

Ah, yes! That one will do.

He freefell down into the air, relishing in his godlike abilities to glide in the air before plopping right beside a girl. She fit all of the criteria; she was of the right age, pretty, and more than likely to be easily coerced. When the girl looked up from her crestfallen situation he didn't wait for her to collect herself into a respectable position. The words were out of his mouth in a practiced motion.

This is what he lived for.

If he could, a smirk would be decorating his face.

"Do you want to make a contract to become a magical girl?"

If he were being honest with himself, he wasn't as alien as the teenage girl next to him. If anything, one would call him a god.

Originally, I was going to have Izaya reincarnated as Kuroneko-sama from Trigun. It's amazing how my mind works.