Disclaimer: I do not own Durarara! it belongs to Ryohgo Narita. Blah, blah, blah...

Tyffanie. T: Hey guys, this is my second time rewriting my series since I wasn't really well-prepared in the beginning. :( But right now, I had watch all the episodes so far and also read the novels up to Vol. 7 :) The novels kinda confused me, so my series would set place in the anime. :) Maybe, some of the novels; I'm still not quite sure. So, that's why it took so much time to update. :( But I have the other three chapters half-written, so it shouldn't take long to upload them here on FF. :D

PLEASE REVIEW!~ I'll really appreciate it. :) :) :)

People are so easy to deceive; there are advertisements telling people to buy things people don't even need, yet they buy it since they think it might "change their lives". They. Are. Idiots. My father once told me "Don't think with your heart, think with your brain." But that was a rare occasion; my parents were always never home. My father was either at work or on a business travel and my mother was always in France or at the spa. I was raised by a string of nannies.

My sister kept me company, she was the spontaneous, bubbly, cheerleader type of girl and I was the quiet, weird, genius. I had entered high school when I was only eight years old. Apparently, the school board had me write an IQ test, I don't remember the score—no, it that that my parents didn't care, so why should I?

Anyways, I was suddenly in high school, in the same class as my sister—Clarisse, that's her name. She didn't mind though, she would often welcome me in her group of friends, even when they didn't like me. She didn't feel stupid or ashamed when I would often help her on her math homework.

In fact, she took pride of her "little genius" is what she used to call me. As cliché as I sound; she was my only friend and I loved her so much.

Thus, this is the reason why I'm here in this city, to find my sister who recently disappeared after our parent's car accident. At first I wasn't at all worried; my sister would often e-mail me everyday, talking about how great the culture was in Japan, and how much fun she was having. She said that she had recently bought herself a new apartment in Ikebukuro and she loved it.

I was happy for her, so I didn't take notice when she stopped e-mailing me, but when I e-mailed her again after a few weeks to tell her to return home for the contract signing of part of her inheritance. She didn't reply, and she failed to show up. I e-mailed her again, no reply. By this time I was getting frantic and I tried calling her, again and again, calling her friends, or anyone who knew her.

But, no one did hear from her since last week, so I decided to take matters in my own hands. I got on the nearest flight to Tokyo, contacted my father's former business associate who was a native in Japan, and took the train to Ikebukuro to meet up with him.

I already hate this city; it's too loud and too busy. The air is hard to breathe with the smell of garbage and the sewer. The humid weather makes my clothes stick to my skin from my sweat. I hate it. But I would have to remind myself that I'm here for Clarisse, my sister who was my only friend until I opened up my shell and became more sociable.

I looked down sadly at the bracelet she gave me on my 11th birthday. It was strung full of charms she had bought when she would travel all around the world. She said that she was going to add a Tokyo charm when she got back; she never got the chance.

I look at my watch; it read 6:50pm. He was 10 minutes late. I sigh in frustration as I lean back against the wall looking at my surroundings.

People were rushing back and forth, hurrying to get to wherever they needed to go. I glanced at the man on my left who had been staring at me for the past 5 minutes. He blushed as we made eye contact, and he started walking towards me.

Immediately, I felt self-conscious, wondering what he wanted from me. Turns out, he wanted to take my picture. Without waiting for an answer, he held his camera up and snapped a photo.

My eyes started to see spots, but as I quickly started blinking, I realized a black limousine had pulled up and the driver got out. I muttered a quick "Arigato" to the strange photographer, grabbed my bags and walked towards the driver of the shiny limousine. "Excuse me," the driver started to say in broken English "A-Are you Cheryl Danes?" I responded back in Japanese "Yes, I am" and without hesitation I asked "Is Mr. Nobu inside?" The driver stared at me in surprise, but said "Yes, Nobu-san is sitting at the back. May I take your luggage?"

He then started to pile my luggage in the trunk. To be honest, it wasn't much; I tend to travel light. I walked towards the back of the limo and I opened the door; a blast of cool air-conditioning welcomed me as I got in the vehicle.

"Hello Cheryl. It's nice to finally meet you again." said a very familiar voice. I smiled and replied in Japanese "Likewise Mr. Nobu."

He smiled back and said "Your accent has improved a lot, have you been practising?"

Japanese wasn't exactly hard for me to learn. My father was a mix of half Japanese and half American, so he insisted on making my sister and I take Japanese lessons. I had also once a nanny who only spoke Japanese, I suspected my father had hired her himself and brought her to America. All in all, Japanese was like my second-language.

"Yes, of course I have." I responded back sweetly; was one of my father's friends and associate. Apparently he used to take over my father's company in Japan while my father controls the company in America, now he has retired and had currently sold his own company for 500 billion yen.

My sister had told once told me that he holds a high influence on the police and the black market. I had highly doubt that it was true, but if it was; it would mean a great help to me on completing my mission. I asked him if he heard about the news of my sister disappearing. He nodded sadly.

"I'm so sorry Cheryl. I had contacted the police about this and they are trying very hard to find her. But as of right now…"

My heart sank "So, you don't know who's responsible for her disappearance?" looked concerned "Well, in Ikebukuro I heard that there is this gang…" he trailed off, I waited impatiently for him to continue "Go on."

"They are called "Dollars" he said.

"Dollars?" I ask

"Yes, the police are suspecting that they have something to do with all the other missing people…including your sister"

"Missing people? I never heard of this."

"There has been many missing people in Ikebukuro right now, mysteriously they disappear without anyone noticing." he said

"And do these missing people have anything to do with my sister?" I ask urgently Mr. Nobu shook his head "I doubt it, but you should call for help. I know this man-he's an information broker, and he should be able to help you."

He handed me a photo and a business card that said in bold letters "Izaya Orihara" with a phone number in small print. I looked at the photo; it was a young man in his twenties, with a long jacket with fur around its hood, he had a smirk on his face and for some reason this annoyed me greatly.

If I were to call him, I would have no inclination whatsoever to be too friendly with him. "Thanks, I'll give it a try."

But looked at me with concern "But do remember, you must be careful with this man. He is said to be dangerous if you cross him."

I nodded in agreement and sat back against the plush leather seat in silence. I open the tinted windows to look outside, and even though it was almost past seven at night and there were still plenty of people walking around, talking on their cell phones or chatting with their friends. All kinds of people were walking around on the streets: women, business men, part-timers, school girls in their uniforms, even foreigners all walking in the same crowd. Seeing this many people made my eyes hurt. I looked around as the limo drove to a stop and people began crossing.

Suddenly someone caught my eye; it was that young boy in his teens I had talked to on the train. His name was unusual to say the least " Mikado Ryūgamine" Mikado which meant "Emperor" and his family name Ryūgamine which meant "Peak of Dragons." I had tried not to laugh at that grandiose of a name and didn't comment on it. I remember him telling me that my Japanese was very good, and he was extremely impressed.

He had asked me what I was doing in Japan, and I told him that I was on a "study-abroad." He told me he was moving to Tokyo against the wishes of his parents to attend high school in the city. I had asked him if he would be lonely living by himself, he had answered brightly that he had a friend-I think his friend's name was

"Masaomi Kida."

I look outside to find Mikado talking to another Japanese boy with dyed brownish-blonde hair. Suddenly I heard something odd, it kinda reminded me of some animal-a horse's neigh or something like that. I leaned out farther from my seat to get a closer look. I listened carefully and realized the sound was coming from the highway and then I saw it .

It was a human on a pitch-black motorcycle. Mysteriously, it had no head-lights and it was weaving through the cars and traffic easily. As the human came closer, I realized it looked sort of like a shadow with a yellow riding helmet. It then drove past the limo without a sound.

This struck me as weird-no abnormal. I usually hate the noise and pollution that a motorcycle gives out, but this one-another second the engine gave another roar. I saw that half the people on the streets were staring after the "being" with incredulous looks. I was with them; for some reason it felt like I witnessed something incredible.

I turned towards Mr. Nobu for some answers. He chucked as he looked at my expression "I've never seen you that surprised before Cheryl."

"What was that?" I asked, he smiled again "That, you just saw was the urban legend in Ikebukuro." He continued "You are very lucky to see it on your very first day here-close up as well. They say he doesn't have a head and I've only seen "it" from a distance"

I look back towards the streets and saw that Mikado and his friend had already walked away. I close the tinted windows and sat back in my seat, my head swirling with thoughts.

Could this day get any weirder? My sister's missing and the reason might be because of this mysterious/dangerous "Dollars" gang, I am probably going to need help from this "Izaya Orihara" guy whom I don't trust at all, and I witnessed an urban legend close up, who is not human and doesn't have a head.

"So, where exactly am I staying?" I ask Mr. Nobu, trying not to think of a headless person.

"You'll be staying in one of my penthouses, it has a beautiful view, so you should be comfortable in it."

"Oh no, you don't have to do that, I was thinking of staying in a hotel or something." Mr. Nobu shook his head "No, it's quite alright. I don't stay at that penthouse anyways, and I would like to help you in any way possible."

I beamed at him "Thanks, I really appreciate it."

At a quarter to 8, the limo reached to a stop and the door opened. I got out of the limo, the noise and the humid air contrasted against the cool air-conditioning and the silence in the limo. I look up at the apartment building; it must be at least 25 floors and it looked very classy.

I realized that my luggage was already gotten out of the trunk and was carefully placed on the ground. I thanked the driver and turned to Mr. Nobu "Thank you so much for everything." He gave a wave of his hand and said "It's my pleasure, I'll keep you contacted on any other information on your sister."

I nod and gave him a smile "I'll talk to you soon." and I waved goodbye as I watched the limousine drive off on the road.

I turned back to the apartment and grabbed my bags and walked towards the entrance. In about 10 minutes, my luggage was already in my room and I was lying on my king-sized bed.

For a penthouse that hasn't been lived in, it was certainly spacious and clean. There must have been a maid or someone to clean up once in a while. It had four rooms, one I supposed, was the work room, the other (my room) was the master bedroom complete with a bathroom with a Jacuzzi and a bathtub. The others were just bare rooms for storage space, but one of the rooms was locked. "Probably just antiques." I said to myself.

"This place must have cost a fortune." I thought idly as I unpacked my clothes. But I wasn't surprised; I was used to this kind of living-my father was a business man of an oil company and my mother was once an international supermodel turned socialite. Which resulted in my father often going away on business travels and my mother spending her time in France.

I turned on my laptop, and stifled a yawn. I was so tired, probably because of the jetlag. I went on Google and typed in my sister's name, the results were just awards she won at our private high school and an interview she did on "How was it like to be a billionaire's daughter."

There was absolutely no news about her disappearance in Japan. I understood immediately; Mr. Nobu must've told the police not to say anything, if word got out that billion dollar heiress Clarisse Danes went missing in Japan, combined with their parents car accident-the reporters will have a field day.

There was a lot of coverage on her parent's death. I remember that I was bombarded with reporters asking me "Do you think it was an accident?" or "Cheryl Danes! How does a child-prodigy like you cope with such a devastating incident."

I sighed in relief and made a mental note to thank Mr. Nobu again for his quick thinking. Having reporters breathing down my neck was not a good idea. So, I then searched up the mysterious gang "Dollars". After a couple of clicks, I came across a chat room. I wondered hesitantly if I should log in, but I shrugged and decided "What the hell" because that was the beauty of the internet-nobody really knows who you are.

I logged in as "Akira" posing as a teenage boy.

Akira has entered the chat room

Setton: Good evening Akira!

Tanaka Taro: Hello Akira! I've never seen you around before.

Akira: Good evening, that's because I'm new. I just gotten my first laptop! J

Kanra: No way! Your first laptop? Congrats ^^

Akira: Hey, my parents told me there has been a lot of missing people lately…

Kanra: Weeell, probably because they're illegal immigrants, or children who've run away from the countryside. It appears to happen a lot between Ikebukuro and Shibuya. There are even rumours that it might just be the guys from "Dollars" who're snatching them and gobbling them up, you know? Hehehee…

I was now intrigued, so the "Dollars" were behind all these missing people. I quickly responded.

Akira: Dollars?

Kanra: Dollars are really quite something! It's said that they recently held negotiations with the Chinese triads, and that the yakuza stabbings the other day were the work of the Dollars underlings!

Tanaka Taro: Kanra-san, how do you know all this stuff?

Kanra: I know people who are pretty familiar with this, that's why.

Akira: Wooww, that's pretty scary…

Setton: Don't worry, just try not to think about this sort of stuff and you'll be fine!

Akira: Thanks Setton-san. ^^

Setton: No problem. J

Akira: Well, it was nice to talking to you guys, but I have to get up early tmr so good night!

Tanaka Taro: Sob! Me too, I have to wake up early as well. So I'll call it a night.

Setton: Good night Tanaka Taro, and Akira!

Kanra: Ah, let's call it a day here. Since no one else is going to come on.

Akira: Bye Bye~

Tanaka Taro has left the chat room-Kanra has left the chat room-Setton has left the chat room-Akira has left the chat room

I looked at the blank screen for a while; my head was spinning with questions rather than the answers I was hoping for. So, was my sister involved in this "Dollars" gang? Judging from what they had said, it seemed like they were pretty dangerous and from what "Kanra" had told her, it seemed that the missing people were more likely people with no family. Illegal immigrants were likely easy to kidnap since they couldn't go to the police without getting deported, the children who had run away from the countryside were easy as well-in a nutshell these missing people were people who would not be likely to be reported missing. No family, and no relatives.

But what for? I started to bit my thumb, a habit I did when I was nervous or concentrated. Prostitution? Highly plausible. Human trafficking? Maybe. Human experiments? Unlikely.

I lay down on the bed, thinking hard. Perhaps they are using my sister to get money. Clarisse did like to flaunt her wealth by buying expensive designer brands, or eating out at high-end places.

But my eyelids started to feel like they weighed a ton, and slowly I closed my eyelids. The next thing I knew, I was already falling asleep.