A/N: I. Am. So. Sorry. (●´⌓`●) I have had sooo much pop up recently, and it's been crazy trying to stack everything together. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. ;; I only have one more test due until I'm all done with this semester! Then I might be going out of state for a funeral for about a week, but I don't know if I'm going to, simply because Christmas is around the corner, and I need to save up all the money I can. BUT UNTIL THAT DAY COMES, I'm back to updating every (or every other) day, I promise! I hope you really like this chapter because I had a dream, and then I was like, "This would be perfect for this fic." ALSO. I really like an idea I saw in the reviews, and I'm putting that in this story. Eee.

PS. There was a suggestion about a Q/A? If anyone else wants something like that, just say something in the reviews. No offense, reviewer, but if you are the only person suggesting it, I won't be doing it as only having 2-3 questions isn't very fun. ┐(´∇`)┌

Anywho! Enjoy this chapter!

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The raven groaned, small bits of his hair sticking to his cheek as he opened his eyes. He looked around the room, trying to get up before realizing his hands were tied behind his back. Eyes widening, he realized his feet were tied together as well, in a rather uncomfortable position. His ankle bones rammed into each other, causing him to twitch his foot to force it into a position where the bones weren't scraping each other. He finally pushed himself up using his knees and head and looked around the room. He edged towards the wall, using his back to crawl up and on his feet. He hopped and slammed himself into a wall, screaming out.

"Where am I? What's going on?"

The fresh burn on his cheek startled him, and he looked around, trying to find anything reflective to allow him to see why his cheek stung so horridly. That's when he realized he was in a room with nothing more than walls. No windows, no mirrors, no seats. Nothing. His socks were white, as well as his pants and long sleeved shirt that hugged his arms a little too tightly, not giving room for even a slight wrinkle. Even more, the walls matched him. Nothing but white aside from a toilet, but he noticed the water was so low, it was virtually empty. He looked around, pleading mentally for some kind of answer. He bit his lip as a sharp pain shot through his head.

What's wrong, Iza? Are you getting a little anxious? Come on, keep shouting, Iza! You're scared, aren't you? Are you scared?

The raven fell to the floor, wincing as the voice got louder and more heavy in his head. He wheezed, trying to calm down, but the sweat began beading from his forehead, and he was having trouble controlling himself. His eye began twitching.

Suddenly, a seemingly non-existent door in the room opened. Izaya looked up desperately.

Three men stood in front of him, one standing out. The man had to wear a hat for obvious reasons, as his red hair was too much for the pale room. He wore an eye patch, a cold smirk, and held a white cane under his hand. The other men, Izaya mentally named Big and Brawn, stood behind him with a bored scowl. Big had a white cup in his hand, and Brawn handled a tray with white rice and sunchoke and cauliflower soup. Of course, Izaya noted, without anything other than the white soup in a white bowl.

The smirking man bent down near Izaya, tipping his white captain's hat and opened his jacket to reveal white paint. Izaya stared at him, confusion prodding the back of his head, but he kept a deadpan face.

"Izaya, right? I don't have a name. Don't need one much. But I'm here to give you the last company you'll have in a while. Answer some questions before it gets started. Ah, before I forget," he chuckled, whipping out a knife and slicing the ropes. The two thugs behind him put the trays down and scurried out, as soon as Izaya rubbed at his wrists.

Without hesitation, the raven pushed the man over, letting a blade slice out of his hand. His eyes narrowed.

"What is going on?"

"No need for brute force, Izaya. I already said I'd answer some questions. Besides, it'd be best for you if you didn't kill me. As long as things run smoothly, Namie - that's her name, right? - will be a-okay."

Izaya froze, shoving his hand closer to the man's throat.

"What's going on? Who has Namie? Answer quickly. I am not entirely patient when things don't go the way I want."

"Neither is Shiki. Sit back, Izaya. Let's talk."

_

"Shiki is the boss of the Japanese division of the arena. I'm his favorite lapdog, basically, but he's just a nice ol' soldier here who has some close ties to the scientists. In short, they did him a favor, and now he's giving them his reward for being so compliant."

Izaya watched as the red head painted the raven's arm with the white paint, covering any bit of flesh that would show.

"What is this?"

"I can't answer that. Well, I can, but I'm not supposed'ta."

"Where is Namie?"

"Same answer."

"What's with the white paint?"

"Same answer."

Izaya frowned.

"What can you tell you me?"

"Hmm. Ah, that's right. There's a chip in a cheek. Not only does it prevent that pretty little brand from healing up, but it also keeps you in line. Try to take off any of your clothes, take off the paint, or try to kill yourself, you get a nice little shock right to your head. I can also tell you that your little - uh - scene trick?"

"Perception manipulation."

"Same thing. Anyway, you might not want to try that out too much in here. Just a nice little warning I thought I'd tell ya."

"Why not?"

"I can't tell you that."

"You're useless. What is a useless person like you doing as some kind of high-up's lap dog?"

The red head smiled, leaning back on the wall.

"You might want to eat up. That's the last time you'll see your reflection in a while."

_

Izaya ran his hand on the brand, wincing at his own touch. There was a '2' on his. It was the color of his flesh, sure, but he still felt the burn. He had already emptied his food tray and water that - may he add - he was not allowed to look at. Finally, the red head swiped the tray from his hand, and the two thugs were back and grabbing at the empty dishes. Izaya narrowed his eyes, trying to memorize the place where the door was.

As the men walked out, the red smirked, looking back at the raven in the corner of his eyes.

"Next time I see you, Izaya, I'm going to kill you. That's my job as the high-up's lap dog."

_

Day 13.

Izaya had been given food every day on a white plate, with the white food, and the white cup. He didn't see anyone. He'd wake up, and it'd be there. One meal a day. No one talked to him.

The raven slammed his head on the wall behind him.

_

Day 57.

Izaya was pacing back and forth, rubbing his fingers against the wall for the door. He still couldn't find it.

_

Day 109.

Izaya took off his sock. He had to see color. Anything but white. The paint wasn't chipping. As soon as he pulled slightly on it, a shock rushed through his body, causing the raven to seize.

His chest protruded as his knees collapsed. He felt his body shaking, but he felt distant from his body. He screamed in pain as the electricity continued flowing inside of him, but he couldn't make it stop.

He was on the floor, drooling and his body twitching on the floor when it stopped. He caught his breath, wincing as he gained control of his bodily functions slowly.

He didn't try to do that, again.

_

Day 204.

There was a new ritual happening. Men in white. White paint covering their entire bodies, white clothes. White contacts. Spray-painted white hair.

The first time they came, Izaya fought back. They never spoke. They just touched.

There were 2 men, 2 women.

Women rode him, staring at him with blank contacts. Men rammed into him, staring at him with the same, alien eyes.

It had been happening for a week, and Izaya still begged for them to speak. His head hurt all the time. The voice was louder than it had ever been before.

_

Day 313.

Izaya stopped fighting.

_

Day 365.

Izaya sat in his illusions, but he couldn't remember certain things. He wanted to picture his street at home, before the world he lived in was the world he lived in.

All he saw was white.

A white room.

_

Day ?

Izaya forgot what his face looked like. His voice sounded unfamiliar.

_

?

The raven slammed his head into a wall. His arms hung from his sides, and the wounds from any kind of cut he made were healing. He was still twitching from the electricity.

_

The scientists watched from the one-way window as Izaya began laughing to himself, ripping off the flesh from his face. The laughter became louder and louder, and the scientists were filled with glee.

_

Iza, are you ready?

Izaya sat in the blankness of his mind. It had once been, he thought, a place of color and comfort, but it was simply white. His thoughts were white. His thoughts were empty.

And he was more comfortable in his mind than he was in reality. He let the voice take over.

_

"Izaya! Izaya, wake up! Shit. Shit, what do I do?"

Shizuo stared at the raven, watching as he twitched in his sleep. Shizuo wanted to run for help, but he was frozen.

Izaya snapped open his eyes, and there was nothing but white.

_ - _

I hope this chapter was a bit interesting! I found out about the "white room," and I thought it'd be perfect to put Izaya in it, in a sick twisted way. Why I love torturing my babies in fanfic, I have no idea. But the idea came to me, and I loved it.

Please enjoy, and I'll be back soon! (◞ꈍ∇ꈍ)◞