A/N: Sorry that this took me so long! I tried to make this chapter a little longer to compensate. Enjoy!

With butterflies in their stomachs and heads held high, they approached the building. When they got within a couple hundred feet, Izaya realized that the shorter of the two men was definitely Akito. He was dressed in the same clothes that he had worn to Izaya's apartment: black shirt, black tie, black boots. Same bandaged face. Same affable, yet sturdy posture; arms crossed loosely, one hip jutting out ever so slightly. Izaya's blood ran cold at the sight of him. The bit of confidence he had previously felt had waned considerably. His head was still bandaged, covering the wound Akito had inflicted upon him, and his arm was still in a sling. Suddenly, he felt pathetic. He wondered if Akito felt smug and proud of himself upon seeing him injured. Even though his face was completely obscured by the bandages, Izaya was pretty sure he was grinning.

The taller, heavier man contrasted with Akito in almost every conceivable way. His stance suggested nothing but pure seriousness: arms crossed tightly, feet a shoulder's length width apart, eyes looking straight ahead. White shirt, white tie, white boots. His face was exposed, revealing thick, black eyebrows and a frown. All of a sudden, Shiki stopped walking. Izaya walked a few more paces before realizing this, and then turned around to look at him quizzically.

Shiki knew the man in white. That was obvious. His eyes were unusually wide, his mouth hung open, and Izaya could have sworn that his hands—balled up into fists at his sides—were shaking. For a moment, Izaya wondered if he should say something, but instead he walked back to him, grabbed his sleeve and urged him forward.

"So nice to see you again, . How's your head?" Akito said when they had stopped about ten feet away.

Izaya didn't respond. For some reason, he hadn't been expecting this. He had assumed that they would immediately be led to the boss or bosses of The White Gloves and BH, but neither of the men in front of them showed any signs of moving. Maybe it was an intimidation technique.

What did the man in white do to Shiki? Izaya wondered. He wished he could ask him outright, but that didn't seem like a good idea at all.

"Come on now, we've got time for a chat." Akito's voice had a slick, syrupy quality to it. Dark. It made Izaya's stomach churn.

"What are you doing here?" Shiki asked in a strange tone that didn't sound anything at all like his usual voice. Izaya was surprised that he had even spoken at all.

The man in white was silent. He hadn't moved an inch the entire time. It were as if he were a statue.

"This man—this man used to be one of my men," said Shiki. The words were clearly meant for Izaya, but Shiki stared ahead the whole time, directly into the eyes of the man in white.

"What?"

"Kenzo Shima," he paused, crestfallen, "I thought you died."

"Oh that?" Said Akito with a wave of his hand, "ancient history. Kenzo simply wanted out of the Awakusu. He wanted something better. Much better. And he has it now."

No one spoke for a long, painful minute. Eventually, Akito sighed and began again.

"How dense are you, ? No offense, but have you really not put two and two together yet?"

"Shiki? What's he talking about?" Izaya's voice was quiet, barely audible.

"How many of your men died the day Kenzo left? Why?"

"It was the Blue Squares. They cornered my men and five of them died."

"They died because of you!" Yelled Kenzo, suddenly, surprising everyone, even Akito. His loud, booming voice struck Izaya to the core.

"You—you sent us off to settle a goddamn turf dispute. It was a suicide mission and you knew that. We told you it was an awful idea and you sent us anyway. We called you for back up and you ignored us!"

"I—I—"

"Shut up! I lived and I left. Oh god, I've been waiting for this day. I swore I'd avenge my comrades and finally, I can fulfill that promise."

He began slowly, assuredly walking toward Shiki.

Is this it? Izaya wondered. His heart was frozen, his feet were rooted to the ground. Part of him wanted to help Shiki, part of him wanted to run far away from this place. He did neither, and stood there motionless, eyes fixed on the impending violence in front of him.

Suddenly, a blur of black flashed by him and Akito stood between Shiki and Kenzo.

"Not yet."

"Come on!" Kenzo's anger was now directed at Akito. They began to argue. Izaya made eye contact with Shiki, trying to silently communicate with him, but he merely shook his head. A thought shot through Izaya's mind and he quickly made a decision.

"Where is he?" He asked, but they weren't paying any attention. He raised his voice and repeated himself: "Where is he?"

They stopped arguing, eyes now fixed on Izaya.

"Who?" Asked Kenzo dumbly.

"Where is Shizuo Heiwajima?"

Akito's eyes narrowed. Izaya could tell that below the bandages, he was smiling smugly.

"Oh, I love being right," said Akito.

"What?"

"Nothing, , nothing at all," he turned to Kenzo, "I think it's time we brought them in, don't you?"

Kenzo didn't look like he agreed, but remained silent as Akito patted them down. Izaya hated the whimper that escaped his throat when he roughly searched the sling cradling his arm. After he declared that they were weapon and cell phone-free, he opened the warehouse door and led them inside.

They found themselves in a narrow, dark hallway lit only by a couple of dingy, dim lamps hanging from the high ceiling. The air was freezing and smelled incredibly stale. Despite the darkness, Izaya saw his breath swirl away from him in small, smoky clouds. A shiver ran down his spine. He wondered what Shiki, who was walking a few feet behind him, was thinking. Was he having doubts about their plan?

All of a sudden, a song took a hold of his mind and refused to let go. It was an old song, somber and mourning, slow and weepy. He couldn't recall the name of it or most of its lyrics, but the chorus echoed throughout his head, unwelcome and ominous:

...And "so long" is what he sings, "so long"

"I will see you in my dreams

Remember, none of this is what it seems

So long, so long…"

His blood pressure was through the roof, yet his veins remained icy cold. He focused his mind on the possibility of seeing Shizuo. He needed to see him. And when the hallway opened up into a large, bleak storage room he got his wish, and then immediately wished that he hadn't.

The room was somewhat brighter than the hallway, but not by much. Two huge, glass windows adorned the wall ahead of them, not unlike the stained glass windows of a church, although they were certainly less colorful and more grimy. Some of Izaya's anxiety dissipated at the sight of them, a bit of hope took its place. The ceiling was very high up and cardboard boxes were piled against all sides of the room. An earthy smell hung in the freezing air around them. Izaya couldn't quite figure out what it was, but he didn't focus on that for too long because a bloody, bruised Shizuo was tied up, seemingly unconscious, to a chair in the middle of the room.

Izaya's first instinct was to run to him, but he suppressed it. He had never felt so impulsive, so reckless in his life and even though he certainly felt distressed, he also wanted to keep a level head. He knew no good would come of being overly emotional. Not in that situation.

After his moment of panic subsided, Izaya glanced around the room. Slightly behind Shuzuo, to his right, stood two men. One of them was dressed almost exactly like Akito. Black clothes from head from head to toe; however he was much taller with an un-bandaged face. His nose was large and crooked. His eyebrows were impossibly thick. The expression plastered across his face was unreadable. Slightly amused? Angry? A mix?

The other man was dressed like Kenzo, although he was far shorter and stouter. A pair of sunglasses rested upon his balding head. He had one hand in a pocket of his white pants, the other was perched on his hip. Unlike the taller man, his expression was very readable. Disgust.

To the left of Shizuo was a woman. It took Izaya only a few seconds to recognize her as Tamayo Sugiyama. She was dressed in all white, as well. She stood with one ankle hooked behind the other. Her bandages looked fresh. Shinra must have only changed them a few hours prior. Even with her extensive injuries, which much have been causing her a considerable amount of pain, her mouth was turned upward into a superior, sly smile. Izaya felt indescribable rage at the mere sight of her.

This is your fault, he wanted to scream, it's all your fault!

Once again, he restrained himself, but was unsure what to do. They all stood there in silence, Akito and Kenzo eyeing him and Shiki warily. Suddenly, something caught Izaya's eye. A metallic sheen. On the floor behind the two men, sat a baseball bat, mostly polished and new-looking with the exception of a few, dark splotches. His stomach flipped. He forced himself to take a few long, deep breathes.

"Haruya Shiki and Izaya Orihara, it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." The sudden speech surprised him. It came from the man in white.

"Shinichi Hamada, and this" he gestured to the man dressed in black, "is Jin Katsuma."

"What do you want?" Izaya asked, hating the desperate tone that had seeped into his words. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

Shinichi let out a strange, throaty laugh. "That's a loaded question, but," he glanced off to the side at Jin who hadn't moved even an inch the whole time, "in the interest of time, I'll give you a summary."

He leaned down, picked up the baseball bat with one hand, and started to swing it back and fourth slightly. He walked over toward Shizuo, slowly, as if he was trying to build some sort of sick suspense. Izaya gulped. Every part of his body screamed at him to run, but he remained still. Shinichi raised the bat and suspended it just inches above Shizuo's skull.

"We want this city, isn't that obvious? But there's more to it than that. Vengeance. Strength."

"Vengeance?" It was Shiki that spoke.

"Yes, I'm sure you've already had a little chat with Kenzo. There was a reason why I picked him to greet you. And Izaya, do you really not recognize Tamayo at all?"

Izaya had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm guessing your silence is a 'no.' Well, her name isn't really Tamayo Sugiyama. No relation to Hiro Igruashi either, although I suspect that you've at least figured that much out, right? You're a smart man. A very smart man. It would be a mistake to underestimate you."

"Aoi Yoshida," the woman said so quickly she almost cut Shinichi off, "that's my real name. Ring any bells?" Her words were dripping with spite.

Izaya very rarely forgot a face, but she really didn't look familiar to him at all. However, she was pretty beat up. Bruises and bandages obscured her features. She looked even worse somehow than she had when he had interviewed her. The name, however, did jog his memory. He sighed. He did remember her, at least vaguely.

"You don't even have the decency to remember me?"

Izaya was suddenly grateful that Shizuo was most likely not hearing this.

"No, I do remember you." His voice was so quiet he wasn't sure whether or not she heard him.

"I almost died because of you. Do you have any idea how hard it was to lie in that hospital bed, pretending that I didn't know you? Pretending that I didn't want to kill you for what you did to me?" Izaya didn't respond. "What kind of monster preys on poor teenage girls and tries to get them to commit suicide? If my mom hadn't found me when she did I would have…" her voice trailed off. She was crying.

Izaya felt like he might throw up. In that moment, he despised everything about himself. The silence that filled the room was heavy and sickening. He knew nothing he could say or do would ever make up for the horrible things he had done. He would never be redeemed. However, if he succeeded in saving Shizuo, he could proudly say that he had done at least one good thing with his life.

"Jin's brother was killed by an Awakusu member, my brother was put into a coma by this monster here" he tilted the bat, indicating the unconscious Shizuo below, "we all have a reason to despise you three and the entire Awakusu organization, for that matter. Every step we've taken has been deliberate. Perfectly calculated. We've been so quiet, so careful," he stared right into Izaya's eyes, right into his soul, "we're the White Gloves and the Black Hats, and soon, we will take this city and destroy everyone who gets in our way.