a/n: I'm new to this fandom, but I hope you like this story.
dedication: to Larisque the Passionate, my romance muse, who had apparently decided to desert me in my time of need.
disclaimer: I own nothing.
summary: The only meeting that didn't end in knives and broken stop signs and shattered vending machines. – Shizuo/Izaya.
unlikely truce
His information was false.
His information was false.
falsefalsefalsefalse….
His mind reeled with shock, spitting surprise and disbelief as he took a step back, his insides screaming at the utter wrongness of it all.
no, does not compute, impossible, false…falsefalsefalse…
Lost in the mind-numbing terror of finally being wrong, he almost didn't notice the crowbar. The whistling of the metal pipe alerted him to the threat and he jumped out of the way, not flinching at the screeching sound the metal made as it came in contact with the brick walls behind him.
have to do better than that, observe, catalogue, can't be wrong, can't ever lose…
Cursing himself, he ducked as the metal pipe came back for a rematch. Things were not looking up. He was trapped in a back alley with no fire escape or window ledge to help him out. Trapped by the leery smiles of a gang who had no problems beating up a lanky teenager who played them false.
have to always be prepared, one misstep is death, can't lose, can't lose…
Normally, he would've had a dozen of ways out – it wasn't the first time he'd double-crossed someone – but this time, he'd truly not seen it coming.
what kind of informant has no information?
Clenched fists hidden in the dark material of his jacket, he shot them all an impudent smile. "You poor little amateurs," he grinned, "You really have no idea who you're dealing with, do you?"
bluff, lie, confidence is your best friend…
"You told us a pack of lies!" The crowbar came swinging down again and he quickly sidestepped it, flicking open his knife and keeping his smirk on his face with the last bit of control he had left.
a steel bar, crashing down with the force of an adult male, add gravity and the elasticity of a steel pocketknife…
"My, my, you didn't think I'd tell you the truth, did you?" he shook his head in a caricature of disappointment as his red eyes scanned for an opening.
shuffle to the left, nervous tic, paranoia…
"Not for how much you've paid me, anyway," he mended his statement, dropping his voice to a hiss, "Fools."
fools? what a fool, dead, lying in the gutter, bloodstains are so difficult to get out…
That enraged them so much that they all came rushing at him and it was all he could to dodge the crowbar and avoid the fists, his knife lashing out and shredding skin like it was paper, decorating their bodies in bloody patterns.
stamina running out…approximate time left, 3.4 seconds, before a blow connects…
He was so preoccupied with the crowbar and its unstable wielder that he didn't see the oncoming fist. It connected solidly with his stomach, causing him to fly back to the wall and hit the bricks with a sickening crack.
fire, fire and blood and can't breathe, can'tbreathe…
The man with the crowbar loomed over him as he struggled to get up, his ears ringing and black spots obscuring the already dimmed surroundings. His lungs couldn't draw in breath and his chest hurt like someone had reached and wrenched his ribs apart to rip out his still-beating heart.
move, come on, move, move, damn it all!
The man raised the crowbar over his head, a smile on his face, intending to smash his skull open and thrash him until he was nothing more than a smear on the wall.
does it hurt to die?
The crowbar hit flesh with a sickening thud. The sharp, metallic smell of blood soon filled the air.
dark figure, outlined in red, is the Devil real?
"Y-you!" the man said, horrified, letting the crowbar hit the ground with a clunk that caused the teen to open his eyes. A wraith stood in front of him, impossibly tall, impossibly strong.
it can't be…
"Me," Shizuo smiled – a smile that sent the gang running in terror of the infamous Fortissimo of Ikebukuro. He winced as he beheld his shoulder – the crowbar had managed to mangle it and blood now dripped into a gory puddle on the ground. Disregarding it, he turned to see the teen crumpled near the wall, his hand frozen in the last, instinctive attempt to shield himself from the final blow.
impossible – why would he respond like this?
"You're a mess," Shizuo frowned, picking up the informant easily and walking out of the alley, heading in the direction of Shinra's apartment.
unpredictable as always, aren't you?
"Why?" he forced out hoarsely, ignoring the burn of his ribs. He paid no attention to the bright streets of Ikebukuro, his eyes only focused on the back of the blond, "After all I've done…"
an insect is truly a stupid creature…
"Because I'm not a monster."
…I hate being wrong.
le fin
a/n: In case you haven't figured it out, the italics depict my foray into our favorite informant's mind.