Gun Shot Heart
Chapter 1- Enter: The Awakusu kai
-slayers64
Disclaimer- I do not own durarara in the slightest, just this fanfiction
A.N.- Welp, it's been a long time, hasn't it, my lovely readers? This idea has been in my mind for a while now, and it got too long to be a two shot, so I guess that means more enjoyment for you then! There may or may not be yaoi, I haven't made up my mind yet. If I do some, then there will be hints of both shikizaya (ShikixIzaya) and shizaya (ShizuoxIzaya). Hope you enjoy! :D
-Slayers64
BANG!
The sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the room, throwing shivers down the four captive's spines. One of these captives, Izaya Orihara, sat in a tight circle, poker face latched firmly on. Outwardly he seemed completely calm and collected, yet, in his mind, his thoughts raced a mile a minute. In addition to this, his hands were clammy and cold, inconvenienced by a cold sweat. No one noticed this fact, however, as his hands were hidden in the expanse of his lap.
The other inhabitants, situated in the same circle as him, had long since, forsaken their pride, and broke down. They cried and begged, eyes bloodshot, and streams of snot dripping from their noses; some even pissed themselves from the overwhelming horror of their situation, all but one, who seemed firm on accompanying Izaya on his determined mission to not show any emotion besides that of confidence.
Out of the corner of his eye, Izaya could make out the distinctive form of a dead body, thick rivulets of blood flowing from the bullet wound in his head. It made the raven haired man feel nauseous, the sight of so much blood, and the limpness of the body at his side, yet he didn't dare to show such a thing. He knew he might die, he knew the possibility of such an ideal was high…., very high. He knew this to be true and yet he simply clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, pricking the soft skin in agitation.
He observed his surroundings, numbly. The room was dark, lit only by a pale, yellow light overhead. The place was windowless and sparse, and gave off a musty smell. In the group around him, one man laid motionless, dead, his light brown hair matted in blood; his age was undeterminable. On his other side, sat a red haired woman with freckles. She seemed to be in her early twenties at least, and was scrawny and small, bunched into a ball, as she trembled violently. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water; it seemed as if she was trying to scream. He allowed his eyes to travel past the woman and past a dead body on the floor, which had rendered them to four, so that he could scan the man's frame at the corpse's side. This man had black hair that was rather long for a man's, with a clear and youthful looking face. He seemed to be the worst of the four at the moment and had violently upchucked whatever had been in his stomach out onto the floor. He looked young, younger than Izaya, himself, who was seventeen. A twinge of pity flashed across his eyes for all but a moment, before turning blank again. He could distantly hear the sound of complaints being heard from one of their captors, before a sharp gunshot to the ceiling silenced the room once more.
Izaya allowed his eyes to slip close, breathing in deeply through his nose, as a gun was shoved his way. A bead of sweat made it's way down his temple, going unnoticed by the other occupants of the room. His eyes slowly slid away from the gun and up to his captors, taking each man in. One man stood with his arms crossed, shades veiling his eyes. He was dressed in an all black suit with a white undershirt, and was bald with a long, thick scar going across his cheek. Another man in an identical suit glared down at the captives, smugly. His eyes were uncovered and seemed to be of a grayish blue color. What drew in Izaya's interested gaze the most, however, was a dark haired man in a white suit, standing between the two men. He had a black undershirt and narrowed eyes; his entire being seemed to reek of an aura of power coming from possessing such a high rank.
Slowly, ruby red slid away from the cold, black ores that seemed to stare him down, and his eyes faced in front of him again, staring straight at the only man who had shared Izaya's calmness towards the situation. His hair was slicked back and looked to be of a very light blond shade, his eyes mostly sealed and remaining open by just the tiniest fraction.
Izaya lowered his gaze to the gun in his hands. Spinning the cylinder of the gun, his heart beat faster in preparation. Slowly he raised the gun to his head, his hands shaking so faintly, it was almost unnoticeable. His finger firmly pulled against the trigger. Nothing. His heart beat jumped. He was relieved. Passing it to the woman at his side, her eyes flashed to that akin of a break down. "N-no… Pl-please!" She begged, turning to their captors with tear filled eyes. "Please, I don't want to die!" She begged, hiccupping and choking on her tears. Izaya shook his head, his eyes drawn to a close.
'Silly human, nobody wants to die here…., but we have no choice but to play this game.' Izaya thought, numbly. In truthfulness, he was probably just as scared, if not more so, then her. He didn't believe in the afterlife, so there was nothing backing him up, assuring him a peaceful death. He didn't want to become a submissive, rotten corpse that submitted to nothingness so easily. He wanted to live. 'But there's no way we can escape now.' His mind had already applied this to his current situation from the very beginning.
Perhaps the reason he was so tranquil in this type of situation, was because of his past. It certainly wasn't the first time something of this sort had happened to him. He was used to having run-ins with the yakuza and gangs, and getting himself into trouble. It wasn't like he enjoyed being in a hostage situation, but it was just so entertaining to observe what these big wigs would do with their power, not to mention how interesting it was to see how each and every one of these humans would respond. He enjoyed learning from these situations and observing how everyone would react. Some learned to adapt, like himself, while others completely broke down like the woman balling at his side. Be that as it may, this was the first time he had let himself get caught by such a powerful yakuza executive in the first place. This guy was different from the rest: much, much, much more dangerous; and of course much more interesting. He knew what he was doing, that's for sure.
"N-no, pl-ease don't! Don't make me-" hiccup, "-do this. P-please!"
The woman's voice, full of hysterics, brought Izaya out of his musings.
One of the men at the leader's side let out a sigh. "I really hate to do this. . ." With those words said he took a step forth, aiming his direction towards the crying woman. She screamed and attempted to make a run for it, but was quickly intercepted, as the man sent a harsh kick to her rib cage. Curling up in pain, the man grabbed the gun, spun the cylinder, and stuffed the barrel of the gun into her open mouth. Everyone, including the man across from Izaya cringed at the site.
He pulled the trigger. Nothing. The woman trembled as the man yanked the gun out of her mouth with a sigh. Her mouth salivated, drool running down the side of her chin, as she collapsed to her knees, with a shaky exhale. Pulling at her hair, she looked so fragile and worn, it was a wonder she hadn't lost her mind yet.
The game continued on for two more rounds, before finally the man with black hair, who had been sitting between the corpse of the first member dead, and the one other calm person in the group, dropped dead. Now there were three. . . There was Izaya, the woman who had begged for her life, and the man with the slicked back hair across from Izaya.
Waving a hand in dismissal, the leader of the captors, Shiki, as they called him, stopped all movement of the room.
"That's quite enough. Awakusu kai doesn't like to dirty its hands any more than what is necessary."
At these spoken words, everyone in the circle, who had participated in this game of death, visibly relaxed. They were going to live. Izaya allowed his tongue to swipe against his dry lips, skeptically. His countenance was still that of perfected indifference to any outwardly sources.
"Congratulations, you three get to live today. In return . . .," a pause intercepted his sentence, before continuing, "you three will be working for Awakusu, as of now." Shiki's voice was leveled, not at all strained, yet it held no room for dissent. Shiki continued.
"Good. I deeply apologize for the way we have treated you. If you will, please allow my men to escort you all home, and please try to get some sleep." He dismissed, staring each captive in the eye. The group stared numbly, unsure of how to process this new information.
Without giving time to adjust, Shiki snapped his fingers. Outside, the door to the room opened, some men filling in, as if summoned.
'How unexpected. . . This man changes his mood so suddenly.'
Izaya stared at the man with a growing interest, a smirk leaping across his face.
'Looks like I'm going to have some fun with this one. . . .'
A.N. - End of chapter one! I just got myself a beta randomly, since I've never had one, and felt like it might be of help. It's a friend of mine, who's really good with grammar and that sort of stuff. One good tip he gave me was that I can sometimes be a bit too explanatory with my writings, so I should try going for a slightly more concise effect. Anyway, I'd just like to thank him again in this author note, and also say thanks for reading! Constructive criticism is always appreciated and I hope I had Shiki in character, since I don't know much about his personality yet. Tell me what you all think! Chapter 2 is coming along.