Attention:

This is for the fans who can't get enough the absurd cast of Durarara! and who enjoys the chaotic mess that life can be. The story takes place after Durarara!, but before the sequels.

Enjoy yourself and get lost in a whole cast of OCs, while the chaos is unfolding itself.

Chapter 1: As Calm as the Weather seems...

At airport Schiphol…

"Thanks for flying with Dutch Air Lines, we wish you a good time in the Netherlands and have a nice day," the speakers said, the airplane has stopped at the right gate at the airport. The passengers were in their usual mood, which was not too optimistic as they had some turbulence on their flight.

I have never experienced a jetlag before, but I didn't get a good lunch during the flight, they sure putted me on the cheapest airplane.

A man in his early 20s walked together with the crowd and it appeared that he symbolized the term of personal space, everyone else stood away from him at least a half meter. It didn't seem odd to him, because he was used to this kind of behaviour around him.

It would never be different, not even at the end of the world.

Pale, tall and a languid aura, that's how he was described by his colleagues over in Washington DC. It was the nicest version of it, normally he would get described much harsher, much ruder. The capital of the United States didn't like him, just as everyone else around him.

Not human, other-worldly, eerie and cold, these terms were used much more often by people, who saw him and were used to judge only on someone's appearance. He could forgive other-worldly, it was the only word that he could turn into a positive compliment, it had something serenity to it.

I have never done something wrong, why does they want me far away, in a miserable country of farmers, waiting to be overthrown by the sea? The only reason I could think off, is that it's far enough away from them, and if the water resistances break of this country, then they are not responsible for my death.

He observed his own miserable face in the glass of the window next to him, which he had done so many times, that even a computer couldn't comprehend it. With a face as pale as his, it wasn't a welcoming face, his eyes were lying deep in his skull and were looking to the outside world as two black holes, sucking every bit of light into his eyes. He wore a cold expression on his face, it was the natural result of the comments he got from all kind of folks.

He knew the answer to his thought and clenched his fist, he would leave scratches behind on his skin, but he had no healed wounds from the previous times he did it.

I knew it, because they see me as a monster, I am too terrifying for them.

His focus turned to the landscape outside, this was going to be his new home. It was cloudy and gloomy and it was going to rain today without a doubt. The season of Autumn was announced and it will become cold in the nights, even as far as getting frost on the ground.

While walking through the halls of Schiphol, the well-known airport next to Amsterdam, everyone kept their distance from him as he wore the plague like in the Middle Ages. Everyone in his surroundings swore to stay out of contact with him, hoping to not breath the same air as him. It was a miserable type of isolation, that strangely comforts him.

"Should I help you with your case?", one of the airport's employees asked to help him, while he was waiting on his baggage, which prepared him for the first weeks in his new home.

They only ask because of the fact that they must be polite, not because they really care about any of the customers. It's a straight act, anyone knows that.

Sure, he looked thin, fragile and weak, but at least his muscles were trained a bit at the Police Academy over the United States.

"Thanks for the offering, but I can do it by myself," he responded.

His voice was always causing a paradox in this universe. He sounded calm, but above all sweet and charming, even with the baritone voice which he inherited from his father. If a total stranger, who was unaware of his looks, would call him on the phone, the person would imagine a completely different picture of him, which was much nicer. Stylish, well-behaved and even the impression of him coming from royal blood. However, even with that of a comforting voice, his colleagues would tease him by saying that it wasn't his real voice, that it was a camouflage for the assumed shady thing he did in his spare time.

There will be nobody to wait for me, nobody will ever meet a person with such an appearance like mine at the arrival hall.

His full-packed case with a colourful label, which was the only optimistic and cheerful thing belonging to him, moved before him on the belt and got lifted by his right hand, while the left hand was hiding in his pocket.

It shall be time for me to figure out in which direction I must head to go for that old city. The name sounded like it was all misery out there, they chose the right city for me. At least, in their eyes.

He took his first step into the arrival hall, calm and without expectations. They crowd was going their own way, nobody cared about him and through his scope, nobody will.

"Hey you there!", a friendly voice called him over a distance of at least twenty meters. He was picked out of the crowd like he was the only alien on this earth. He thought that he could hide himself with his length as the people over here in Europe tends to be taller, especially this small country.

All right, here we go with the nasty comments, I am already used to it and it would never change.

"Are you Uthan Calem? The exchange cop from the police department of Washington DC?"

A matured man, past the milestone of 50 years, was waiting for him and greeted him without any suspicion. It seems he cared for himself, due to the absence of a beard or other hair features on his face.

Is this a trap? It sure must be. He seems to be well experienced, he must be a veteran of his profession, a man with a good and authorial reputation, why do they send a cop like him? It's a waste for him to wait on a rookie like me.

"How are you feeling, you must be tired after a flight like that. I won't mention the jetlag you must have, I guess you want some sleep, am I right?"

Uthan's expression change for a while, he was silent and could barely talk. The man had putted much more care into his words than the employees here, so these words must be honest.

"Let me introduce myself, my name is Gerard Bronsma."

He observed the exchange cop and immediately got the request from the man if he could carry his case, so that he could get some rest.

"It's fine, I can carry it by myself," he responded friendly, sensing a suspicious tone in his voice.

"In that case, I'll leave it to you, however, it would be better if we take the upcoming train, so let's hurry. The ride itself would be twenty minutes, so take a small nap if you can," the man responded in a down-to-earth manner. The words didn't sound like a compliment, more like a friendly invitation.

That's where we are going to, you want for me to take a nap and steal my case when I close my eyes, I won't fall twice into that trap.

His mind produced none other than suspicion to the veteran, but his heart felt something that he didn't got in a long time. His words were completely genuine and kind, the words dug up Uthan's old feeling of coming home, returning to your own nest.

The conflict in him, stroke him immediately as odd, which should be the correct feeling for this conversation. For almost every people on earth, this would be a normal chat, speaking to someone else, treating the other as an ordinary human. The frightening or astonishing responses he normally would get, have grown to him and were almost replacing the natural reactions and behaviours of people.

Well, I can't do nothing else then relying on him for a small time, hopefully won't I regret it.

While they rushed through the escalators, he was starting to confuse himself with all the little chit chats around him, which were held in a language he couldn't understand. His English trained ears and brains, were always on their guard over in Washington, unconscious searching for insults and comment on his looks. Over here, his brain got frightened by the uncertainty of the words the people around him were communicating with, like if they used a secret code to put insults and comments towards him, that he couldn't understand.

He focused himself on the bits that were similar to him and started forming a context around the rest of it, which made the language less scary to him, so that he could relax a bit.

"It seems you're startled by the language we speak. Don't worry, you get used to it, slowly," his new colleague said with a little smile on his face. Though, he gave good advice to him, adapting was the keyword. A new environment, a new fresh start with new chances and opportunities were heading for him, alongside with new challenges and events to overcome.

It would be great if I will get a new day routine, something more normal, something less difficult to withstand.

He held his train ticket at hand. From the huge unknown he had of this low country, he will go to a place, a city which he heard of, though, not for the best or touristic reasons.

At a bar, somewhere in the city...

"I have seen people drinking a lot, so I know that you are approaching the lethal alcohol dose very quickly. I just gave you a warning."

As a bartender, he did have seen a lot of weird customers; from high demanding individuals with 'refined' tastes, not noticing the low quality they actually drank to people who were desperate to drink themselves lame and due to that believed that the tap water he gave them, was the highest alcohol percentage he could legally give to them.

Normally, her personality, the type she embodies, would be praised, but I highly doubt it because of her.

He looked with a smiling face to her, while being slightly annoyed, which he successfully hided from his guests.

The lady he was looking at, was in her 30s and was sitting at the bar across the bartender, who held a keen eye on her drinking behaviour. She wore an expensive purple coat of fur and appeared to be seductive at least. Combining that with her face, which was covered under a large amount of make-up and her long sharp nails, then the conclusion would be that she was a femme fatal: A woman with the beautiful features of her kind, while using them in the most deadly and lethal ways a man could ever imagine.

"Live is a hell, if you aren't tortured by your own body, then your own mind will take the responsibility and doing it even worse," she stated without much thought. Alcohol was known for making the tongues of the admitters loose, spouting a lot of confident information about themselves or taboos about sensitive issues.

"You can't escape it with alcohol, but it would make your torture more comfortable." The last drop of liquid from her current glass, fell on her purely red tong and waited to be devoured and consumed.

The bartender knew the beast she was and this was only her second visit to this particular bar. All kind of folks, from the most ordinary office workers to the top notch of the illegal organizations, called her kind kroegtijgers, which description is closely resembling a pub dweller. It wasn't an accurate representation, though, even he knew that well.

Kroegtijgers weren't just people who wanted to become drunk and were crumbling from one pub to the next. Instead, their kind came to cafés, pubs and bars to complain about their lives: their struggles, their failures, the overall unfairness of reality and the harshness of this world. Though, they also shared their feelings of love, joy or nostalgia to the guests, contained in a told story made out of their own experiences.

Veterans of this kind of people, even touched the philosophical and supernatural sides of live. Their stories and poems were well loved, when guests told these poetries to their own children, filling them with almost ancient wisdom.

As miserable as they seemed, some people suggested and theorized that these were the only kind who found real happiness in their lives.

I hope she will leave the bar alive tonight; I don't like to have a silent and lifeless corpse in my workplace.

The whole atmosphere of the bar shifted, when an almost daily guest opened the door. The man who was known in the neighbourhood for questionable reasons, had as expected an intimidating and tall posture. It was marked together with his odd appearance in a single vacation blouse as a person of the extra-ordinary. His footsteps were equally heavy as these from giants and his hands were vast in grab width.

"Sure, it won't go always as planned," he responded to the lady's complain with a low bass and took a seat at the bar.

The guests were waiting for a couple of seconds and after that, they regained their normal habit of chatting.

"Live is like a rollercoaster, with ups and downs, but the course you will take isn't planned in the slightest. That said, I will advise everyone to force their own path."

The faces of the lady and the bartender turned to the voice, one did it with astonishment, the other with the joy of seeing him again.

"Sorry, if I'm late," the man apologized, while he was shaking his head to dry his completely soaked hair. The world outside the windows showed a dark and cold place, where the rain came to earth with a dazzling speed.

"As usual, your glass with excellent whisky for Scotland?", the bartended asked him friendly and as a good friend.

"Sure Edwin, it seems you haven't forgotten me."

The femme fatal heard the conversation and was still stunned by the remarkable appearance of the arrived guest, who only wore a pair of slippers, a short colourful pair of pants and a typical holiday blouse from Hawaii.

See her, even her kind can be amazed by certain ordinary thing, it's just a matter of perspective.

He dried her glass, while watch her with a smirk on his face, one out of friendship, even when he didn't know her for real.

They share a lot of information about themselves, but they managed to keep the air of mystery around them, hiding tiny bits of the unknown for themselves.

What's their reason to rant about this world, what drives them to complain and consume massive amounts of alcohol? The bartender questioned himself in his thoughts and diverged from her to the tall man next to her.

"Do I bother you if I called you by your first name? It's kind of difficult to keep inventing new titles for a man like yourself."

It seemed to be just a simple request at first glance, but the quivering eyes of the other guests gave a deeper insight into the man's history.

"Of course, I am not bothered, you know me now for almost five years and you know my full name, so just use it."

The tourist look-a-like gave him a blink, which was interrupted by his mobile phone.

"Excuse me, I got a client," he spoke and walked to the toilets for some silence.

He's always busy, I wonder if that is the reason why he dresses himself lightly all the time, the whole year through. At least, it seems he isn't doing it for the money, though.

After that, a second ring tone began to play and this time, the kroegtijger looked to her phone and smiled.

"I didn't expect to have a client on this hour, but it seems that I need to entertain some lonely business man. Normally, he would call me earlier, but that doesn't bother me," she explained and walked to the lady's toilet for some privacy.

She said it with a smile, I wonder if she does it for the money or that she really enjoys her work.

For the bartender, the drive wasn't the easy money you could make from drunken people, who didn't have control over their behaviours. However, he did it for the connections you can get with strangers, the bonds you could share with them and the stories they told. From this perspective, he treasured his own kroegtijger, while still having conflicting feelings about her presence.

In the sky, between Japan and Europe...

"Normally, they would put another sequel out with this success. If that was the case, I would let your manager Uzuki handle it. However, a friend of mine, got as a director a huge opportunity to make a more creative and personal movie. Anyway, it's always great to see more things and cultures from around the world and above!"

His voice and stance were like that from child with a huge imagination and no restrains in his vision, the illusion that his dreams could shape the reality of life. His ambition was the soul-purpose he lived for, which made him even more eccentric, next to his blond afro hairstyle, sunglasses and his white tuxedo, that last one made him look like a mass murderer for some unknown reason.

His private airplane was bringing them to their newest destination and the scouting agent, who was also the president of the Japanese department of the Jack O'Lantern Talent Agency, Max Sandshelt, was going through the roof with his imagination. He normally would stand of in Tokyo while his most prominent talents were going to shine in a movie, but the director of the film was an old friend of him, so he gave the manager a long vacation and headed self towards the film set.

"It's fine to go away and explore the outside world, but family is important too. I had to blow a weekend with my older brother for this and he surely will be pissed off because of it," a calm, almost monotone voice responded. The man who replied was sitting at the opposite side of the room in the airplane and was wearing a cold faced expression. A beautiful woman with an other-worldly aura around her, was sleeping on his shoulder.

"Honey-chan, since when are you so upset about it? You are going to be away for just two or three months."

The president used this nick name all the time at which point it became a daily routine.

The cold man was an actor and fans knew him under the name of Yuuhei Hanejima. He was, however, registered as Kasuka Heiwajima and the last three movies where he played in made quite the box office. He was critically praised for the excellent performance and fans were eager to see another movie, featuring him as one of the main characters.

While he was happy and satisfied by it, knowing the work wasn't done for nothing, his face remained cold-hearted. It was hard to believe that he could act in a movie, but it was his profession.

"I hope that both of you will do a good performance, if it will be good if this movie will such as good as your last one, maybe the international industry will get interest in you."

The white suited president of the talent agency was almost completely covered under the script, which was already written, but there were still coming little adjustments to the script, so it was hard for him to tell the different versions apart from them. He wondered if it was better to distribute them digitally, the internet had done some wonderful things.

Oh man, they seemed not completely satisfied with the story and I hope the location is already set up. Of course, we're still getting paid for this film, but it's much better if the work itself is pleasant. I can't anger him about crappy work conditions.

The pretty lady woke up, opened her eyes and saw the president struggling with the papers, while he was still wearing an enthusiastic expression. Her hair didn't fit perfect and the hairband she wore, wasn't that effective for holding it together.

She was lightly shocked when Max face, moved in a fast and energetic way before her. She knew him now for almost a year, but she still wasn't used to his eccentric behaviours.

"It would be an eye opener for you, for as much as you like the monsters in movies, I can guarantee you will like his staff and it will be a fabulous never forgetting experience!"

Kasuka was worried about her, that she felt uncomfortable because of Sandshelt's way of doing things and expressing himself in the most over-the-top fashion.

"However, I still don't understand why you wanted an athletic role, I thought you have once said that you're not athletic or strong at all," Max brought a topic up and it made the lady, who sat next to him, by coincidence nervous.

She as Ruri Hijiribe and Heiwajima knew that her fans didn't believe her at all and fortunately speculated that she was stating that to increase her popularity, nobody has ever thought of a secret that was much scarier than they ever could fantasize. She was from origin not an actress, but a sculpture artist, who was spotted by a scouting agency, who turned her into a model and idol.

She was rather the opposite of what she had stated during that interview, she was remarkable stronger and more athletic than a normal untrained person of her age would be. Now she will play an active and strong female detective with great agility, so when people would ask her about her strength, she could use the movie as an excuse. She could say that she had trained for the role and that it made her stronger.

While she had fixed her own past in term of traumas and found a few friends, when she lived in Ikebukuro, she felt a sense of loneliness. There was an issue with her that made her an exclusive person, a category where she could place only herself in, together with one other person.

What have I said to her? Oh gosh, I hope she won't leave the agency after this movie, Honey-chan really liked her presence. He didn't give any facial hint for that statement to be real, but there are other ways to read someone.

Even between himself and Kasuka, there wasn't that much communication through talking. When Hijiribe joined the company, Max noticed that these two got the same interaction towards him, they communicated almost only with slight changes in gestures, the short soft-spoken comments they made, were minor things for them, additions to their voiceless speech. It was that particular thing that convinced him of his impression of them being good actors, they almost nailed the art of minimal acting.

"However, maybe this would be the chance to break through on the international market, you could be famous around the world."

The expressions on their faces told him enough, a simple and gently no. The idol's face was slightely shocked about his comment, the actor's one was still the same and would always be.

"I think we rather prefer only a national popularity. I hope the rumor that you Americans, choose money and fame over family and friends, isn't true," Kasuka added a genuine response to him, while worrying about Ruri. Although she was an idol, she didn't have known blood relatives anymore. However, she has found some friends where she had bumped into by accident, starting with Kasuka's older brother, Shizuo.

Apparently, after Kasuka spoke about him, she was lucky with the timing and had only heard of the time when The Strongest Man of Ikebukuro couldn't control and restrain himself.

"The truth is much more complicated than just choosing between those two, it's more like a survival game for us, if I am honest about it," Max replied with a completely different tone than before, his comment was rather serious.

In the train who is heading for his destination...

"Hey, dreamer, wake up!"

Gerard poked lightly in the belly of his new partner. He didn't know how much Uthan's stomach could handle. As a veteran of the police, he had seen many different and unique body types, with differences in strength and other physical related stuff. He himself wasn't that strong anymore, his body already had celebrated his Abraham mile stone, the event when you have lived 50 years, and due to that, his body began to rust.

This would be for him just a small trip back to the streets, before he stopped once and for all with patrolling in the city. He spent nowadays most of his time behind a table, talking with young delinquents about their future. He chose for the police, because he wanted to help people, so now he assisted young beginning criminals to bring them on the right path, to follow a more stable and less dangerous career. He was most worried about them due to executions happening on the streets, in the front of the eyes of citizen, who had nothing to do with the criminals. Even when you've done something wrong in your life or has hurt others, that didn't mean that you must die for it.

"Are we almost there?", Uthan asked with a sleepy voice. His eyes were half closed and seemed almost dead to Gerard.

It looks that he is a rather interesting individual, he seems almost dead, but he keeps on living and moving. How would his life look like?

"Don't make jokes, I've told you that it would only take twenty minutes, the Netherlands is a small dense country you know."

Uthan opened his eyes further and seemed to be amazed by the city itself. The train was moving with a comfortable speed, which made it for Uthan easy to observer the sky line of the city, a huge modern bridge and flats were filling the horizon.

"The country itself is almost 300 years old in the current form, but that doesn't say that there aren't modern cities here in the Netherlands."

The train station where they arrived in, was a vast open building with glass all over the walls. The slightest beam of sunlight could brighten the place in a wonderous fashion. There were screens with arrival and departure information on every platform and the huge bus station was in your two-minute reach.

In the big hall, there was a whole row with electronic gates, where everyone equally could check in, from salesmen busy with their telephones and business deals to a group of friends who have shopped in the streets of the city and were laughing about a terrible joke one of them made.

"The city got the biggest harbour of Europe, there was even a time when the city was ranking as number one on the world list, before China took the whole top ten list," Gerard stated, while he gave Uthan his bus card.

Life is full of small, but wonderous things, discovering a new big city like this is one of these small bits of fascination.

"The whole city looks so modern," Gerard's new partner said. Uthan thought that every European city was old. Europe got a much longer history than the United States and due to that, the European cities were much older. So why was this city all this modern, there doesn't seemed any old building in the surroundings?

"Well see, in the second world war, the city got almost completely bombed by the Germans, only the cathedral is still standing and now it reminds people about the awful times of the past."

Gerard guided him through the city by bus and told small facts about this enormous place, even when it was small compared to New York, his own place Washington or even Las Vegas and Boston. This city held less than one million people, but the impression that Uthan got made it seemed like a vast metropolis.

"I will explain a little bit of our work, you and me are going to do field work in neighbourhood alongside the river. We will serve almost as persons which people can chat with and report incidents to, so that we can call headquarters for assistance, understood?", Gerard said and was looking to Uthan for an answer.

However, Uthan was quiet, almost silent and was only interested in the city itself, instead of the police work.

Even on the grand scale, small cities like this can amaze people who comes from a place where almost everything is bigger, I wonder how long he would have interest in this city

It was already dinner time when they arrived in their new neighbourhood and so, Gerard treated him on a meal in a small restaurant with a homey feel. He even joked about the fact that Dutch people would call the mood gezellig, a word with no good translation to English and most other languages. The closest that Gerard could describe, with his rather small English vocabulary, was that it was the term for a mood, where social interactions between were going smoothly and without fraction.

With the unknown words, Uthan had decided to just choose a random plate with an unfamiliar name. The restaurants here had still the usual hamburgers, French fries and rib-eyes, but especially the plates with vegetables, were unknown to him.

Well, there are even dishes that we can't explain by ourselves and our culinary kitchen isn't that divers either. However, it still can give people some shocking facts about their own cultural background.

When they were finished with their meals, it was already late and the crescent moon was lighting the streets. Uthan had stated that he enjoyed his plate of smashed potatoes mixed with small pieces of apple, but he doubts if he could eat the brown meaty sauce that Gerard had by his dish of smashed potatoes.

"I will go back to my own home, so I will give this to you," Gerard concluded their talk and gave Uthan a piece of paper with an address unfamiliar to him, this was where his apartment was, where he could sleep, eat and spend his spare time in his days off.

"See you tomorrow, just take your time, we don't expect you on the office on half eight, you could make it as late as you want to." The veteran said goodbye and closed the door of the restaurant behind him.

We have talked a lot about trivial things and the news, but he didn't start to tell about his personal life, I wonder why.

He felt his stomach having trouble with the amount of food he consumed during the dinner. The desert seemed to didn't mix very well with his plate. There were various solutions for a problem like this and so he decided to take a glass by a homey café that he knew of.