Author's Note: Enjoy?
Despite having an entire half hour to think about what it is he's doing, by the time Shizuo arrives at the Imperial Hotel, he is no less angry than he'd been when he'd left his apartment. He used to believe that Izaya was the living embodiment of everything that's wrong with the world, but recent events have made him rethink that particular stance; as annoying as the little bastard is, Shizuo can't actually think of a single time he's legitimately murdered anyone - but Vincent seems to have no problem with ending someone else's life, willing to kill his own employee for not being able to take down someone whose very name is enough to strike fear in the hearts of people of all ages and walks of life. His rage already threatening to boil over, he approaches the front door of the hotel with a threatening aura powerful enough to make the security guard swallow nervously and put his hand on his sidearm.
"C-can I help you, sir?"
"Yeah, you can get out of my way." He says flatly, having no patience for this kind of bullshit right now.
"Are you a guest here?" The anxious guard asks, trying not to appear as intimidated as he actually is.
"Nope, but I'm supposed to be meeting someone who is."
"What's your name? I'll check the list."
"Heiwajima Shizuo."
The guard seems to stiffen, his face growing as pale as if he'd seen a ghost; his eyes taking in the sight of the familiar black slacks, vest, and bowtie most often worn by bartenders, he decides it's in his best interest to make the other man wait any longer. "E-enjoy your stay." He stutters awkwardly.
"Thanks, but I don't plan on being here long." Shizuo responds, pushing open the doors and stepping inside the hotel's spacious, finely decorated lobby. It looks like something out of a movie, with shiny marble floors and a chandelier the size of his bathroom; realizing he has no idea where to go from here, he's about to start heading towards guest reception when his phone rings. "Hello?" He greets shortly, fairly certain he already knows who it is - sure enough, when the voice on the other end answers, he's able to recognize it as Vincent's.
"Mister Heiwajima! I don't suppose you've arrived yet?"
"Yeah, I just got here." He replies, more than a little creeped out by Vincent's timing. "Now tell me where the hell you are?"
"My, my, how forward you are - but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just as eager to get this little meeting underway. I'm currently staying in a suite located on the seventeenth floor - go the elevator, I'll allow you access."
Shizuo's eye twitches.
So not only is this rich fuck staying at the Imperial fucking Hotel, he's also staying in one of the goddamn suites? God, I fucking hate this asshole.
All but storming over to the elevator, Shizuo waits impatiently for the doors to open before pushing aside one of the other hotel guests and smashing his finger against the button for the seventeenth floor (which he's annoyed to find is also the top floor). Almost immediately, he hears a buzzing sound; the doors closing in front of him, the elevator slowly makes its ascension.
"When you reach my floor, go to the last door on the left. I'll be waiting for you." There's a 'click', and the line goes dead; fighting the urge to crush his phone between his fingers, he shoves it back into his pocket.
I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him…
The only reason he doesn't end up destroying anything while waiting for the elevator to reach the top is that it doesn't stop once until it gets there, the doors opening to reveal a long, elegantly decorated corridor. He doesn't know why, but something about it unnerves him… taking a deep breath to steel himself, he heads down the corridor until he reaches the last door on the left. For a second, he contemplates kicking the door in - but it would probably cost more to replace it than it does for him to pay his rent each month, so he instead decides to bang his fists against the polished wood. "Oi, I'm here! Open the fuck up!"
The door creaks open eerily, causing goosebumps to spread over his skin. It doesn't help that when he pushes it open the rest of the way, he's greeted by an entirely empty room; telling himself that the door must not have been completely shut, he steps inside and takes a look around. The suite is just as luxurious as the corridor and the lobby, all polished wood and soft carpets - clenching his fists, he tries not to let his envy convince him to give into his fury before he's able to get his hands on the smarmy bastard who invited him here. "Oi! You hear me? I said I'm here! Now come out and face me, you goddamn coward!"
"Are you always this impatient, Mister Heiwajima?"
His head swiveling towards the source of the voice, his eyes fall on a tall, pale-blonde American man clad in a dark blue business suit, black dress shirt, and dark blue tie. He has a smile on his face that somehow manages to seem both fake and genuine at the same time, something about the look in his ice-blue eyes sending shivers up Shizuo's spine; his body moving on autopilot, he lets out an angry roar as he picks up the expensive leather sofa and hurls it in Vincent's direction… only for it to stop in mid-air, hovering there for a second before gently floating back down to the floor.
What the hell?
"I would appreciate it if you would refrain from abusing the furniture, Mister Heiwajima. While it would be no trouble at all to compensate this lovely establishment for any damages you might cause, I would prefer not to have to answer the questions that would be sure to follow." Vincent informs him casually, that unsettling smile of his still plastered on his face. His fear drowning out his common sense (not that he generally listens to it anyway), Shizuo lets out an angrier, even louder roar and lunges at the other man; unfortunately, he isn't able to get even a slight bit close to him before he suddenly finds himself frozen in place. "Temper, temper." Vincent taunts, obviously amused by the situation. "Did no one ever teach you manners?"
"What the hell did you do?!" No matter how hard he tries to will his body to move, he can't get a single part of it to budge; it's just like when the kid had stopped him from attacking Izaya, only Vincent doesn't seem to be using even half the amount of energy she had.
"So this is the so-called "monster" I've heard so much about?" The American remarks callously. "I have to say, I'm a little underwhelmed. I was expecting more of a challenge."
"Let me go and I'll fucking show you a challenge!" Shizuo orders. He's never been in a situation where he couldn't rely on his strength to get him out of it, the realization that he's at a disadvantage doing nothing to help the panic bubbling up in his throat.
What the fuck do I do, what the fuck do I do, what the fuck do I do?!
"Let you go?" Vincent repeats. "You want me to let you go? Why in the world would I do that?"
"You'll do it because if you don't, I'll rip your fucking arm off and shove it up your goddamn ass!"
"And how exactly do you expect to do that when you can't even move?" Vincent inquires, raising an eyebrow. "I see your intelligence is inversely proportional to your strength."
"You know what, I take it back. I ain't gonna rip your arm off and shove it up your ass, I'm gonna rip it off and beat you to fucking death with it!" Shizuo tells him, tears of frustration starting to well up in his eyes. He's never felt this helpless before, having no idea what he should do - or even could do - to get himself out of this.
"By all means, continue to bark… it won't do you any good." Vincent says, going over to suite's kitchenette so he can pour himself a glass of wine.
"I fucking mean it, I'll fucking kill you! I'll fucking kill you, and then I'll kill you a second time to make damn fucking sure you fucking stay killed!" Shizuo wants so badly to wring this smug bastard's neck, but he still can't even get his goddamn pinky finger to so much as twitch.
"Bark, bark, bark." Vincent mocks, taking a sip of his burgundy as he saunters back over to his enraged 'guest'. "You know, I really am glad I decided to rent the entirety of the top two floors for this little encounter - I do so dislike having noise complaints lobbed against me."
Wait, what?
"This isn't where you're staying?" Shizuo asks, unable to believe his ears. How the hell did this man get so rich that he could rent two fucking floors in the Imperial Hotel and not even stay there?
"Of course not! Only an idiot would invite a man who wanted to kill them to their actual hotel room." Vincent scoffs, taking another drink from his glass. "Though I suppose it is an idiot I'm speaking with at the moment..." A strange look comes over his face, his brows furrowing as he appears to contemplate something. "I wonder what he sees in you?" He mumbles, so quiet that Shizuo almost doesn't catch it.
The sound of a phone ringing draws both of their attention, Vincent setting his glass down on the coffee table before going over to where his cell is currently charging. Pressing the answer button, he brings it to his ear so he can greet his caller. "Hello?" Shizuo can't hear what's being said on the other end, but he can tell by the smile that spreads across Vincent's face that it probably isn't anything good. "Excellent. I'll be there shortly." He says, hanging up and turning towards his captive. "It seems our time here is at an end." He informs him, slipping his phone into his jacket pocket. "Shame… I do so enjoy gloating, it's one of my few flaws."
"Wait, so that's it?" Shizuo asks, incredulous. "You're just gonna fucking leave?"
"Incredibly gauche of me, I know - but I'm afraid I have better things to do." He picks back up his glass so he can finish his drink, licking his lips in satisfaction. "I need to find out where to purchase this brand of burgundy, it's quite lovely."
"You can't keep me here forever, you know!" Shizuo snarls, once more trying (and failing) to break free of the other's hold.
"Oh, you foolish, foolish man." Vincent sighs, shaking his head. "I don't need to keep you here forever... don't you see?" He comes back over to him, a look of faux sympathy in his eyes. "I just needed to get you out of the way long enough for my associate to retrieve my prize."
No… no no no no no…
His stomach dropping, Shizuo is suddenly very, very, very aware of just how badly he's fucked up. "The kid." He breathes, his skin feeling clammy. She'd trusted him… she'd trusted him, and he'd let her-
"The kid? Oh, you mean Subject Thirteen… no, no. I'm not talking about her." Vincent says dismissively. "I could care less about her, I've never much liked children. I'm talking about Izaya."
Huh?
"Wait, Izaya? I thought he was just supposed to be a replacement?" He asks, confused. "Why the hell do you want him? He's-"
"Worth more than a million hot-headed oafs like you put together." Vincent snaps, the sudden shift in mood catching Shizuo off-guard.
"What the hell is your fucking-"
"I'm tired of listening to your barking, dog." Vincent cuts him off, no longer caring about being the picture-perfect example of a high-class executive. "And I can't have you following me the moment you have the chance, so…" He leans in until their faces are so close together that Shizuo has nowhere to look but directly into his eyes. "I'd appreciate it if you'd go to sleep."
Suddenly feeling very, very, very tired, Shizuo's eyes close and he slumps to the floor.