The world flared like a camera lens for a moment, all of his senses going out of focus as Izaya tried to breathe through the pain. Everything sharpened suddenly with the rush of endorphins, leaving him hyper-aware of everything.

The cold laminate floor pressed to his cheek.

The thundering of his pulse, ringing in his ears.

Droplets from his still-wet hair sliding down the back of his neck.

The knee pressed firmly into his lower back, and of course,

The unforgiving metal pressed to his jugular.

Izaya was surprised to find he wasn't dead yet. His mind still wasn't thinking properly, too occupied with thoughts of how easy it would be for that blade to cut into him and he was still alive for this one single moment and this might be the last breath he ever took, the last time he would experience any of these things-

"Why are you laughing?"

What? But sure enough, Izaya became aware of a raspy chuckle that seemed to be coming from himself. Huh. Was this his natural reaction to life-threatening danger? The thought was a little worrisome. Still…

"I had forgotten," he let out a strained chuckle, "how wonderful humans are! I've been emailing and texting all day, but I remember now why I love humans so much in person! The kind of humans that wouldn't get their hands dirty, the kind that would, and of course, the kind that would reduce themselves to a tool for the former! I love them all!" He found himself grinning manically, despite the erratic thundering of his heart and the cold sweat that had broken out over his whole body.

The weight on top of him let out a low chuckle.

"What a poor reaction," it said in a voice Izaya faintly recognized.

"Sorry to disappoint… Hideki-san," Izaya took advantage of the surprised silence to hook his ankle around the IV pole he had been pulling painstakingly closer as he'd been talking. The rattling, clattering noise the pole made as it fell caused the person pinning him down to shift backwards, startled. It wasn't as much as Izaya had hoped for, but as he grit his teeth he knew it was the best chance he was going to get.

Izaya shifted his weight abruptly, twisting out from beneath his attacker and throwing the man off balance. Sensing the oncoming attack, Izaya threw up his right arm to protect his head. The blade that had been intended for his neck bit into plaster and thankfully went no further. Izaya pushed back, throwing his opponent further off balance and somersaulting forward, out of his enemy's range. He spun and popped to his feet in a move that had his entire body protesting.

His attacker had also climbed to his feet and was comfortably tensed in an attack stance, blade held in a backhand grip. He was a couple inches taller than Izaya, with a lean build and long black hair pulled into a warrior's top knot. He wore dark clothes, loose enough to conceal weapons, but not so loose as to obstruct his movement. The casual grace and sharp eye movements bespoke professionalism. The wide, too sharp grin spoke of a sadistic sort of enjoyment.

And he was between Izaya and the door.

"You know me," It was a statement more than a question, but Izaya noted the surprise nonetheless. He grinned in reply, fighting the unsteadiness in his legs.

"Shimono Hideki, also known as the Faceless Killer. Apparently everyone who has seen his face hasn't lived to tell about it." Izaya answered casually, holding out an arm palm-up in a pseudo-shrug.

"I didn't start the rumors," the assassin answered with a lazy shrug and almost apologetic smile, "but they ended up serving my purpose."

I know Izaya thought with an internal grimace, I started them. Hideki had worked for the Awasuku-kai at one point, and while they had never met, Izaya had spent time observing him. He had started the rumors for fun, but hadn't expected them to balloon out of control like they had. It had been fascinating to see the relatively new assassin grow into the person the rumors made him out to be. It's a shame he left when he did, he was really interesting.

"Scary," Izaya smirked, finding he had to lock his knees to keep his legs from folding beneath himself, "I wonder who sent such a dangerous assassin after someone like me?" The obvious answer is the Awasuku-kai… Though it didn't seem likely. Shiki was more likely to deal with Izaya personally, to make a statement. And that would be much, much worse.

"Do you intend to haunt them in the next life?" chuckled his attacker.

"Who knows?" Izaya shrugged, leaning against the bed behind him with an ill-concealed grimace. Not the yakuza then. At least, not Shiki. "Maybe… or maybe I can offer you a better deal." The informant narrowed his eyes, allowing a smile of his own to pull at his lips.

"You want to pay me off?" Hideki scoffed, rolling his eyes, but never relaxing, "how boring. I apologize for thinking you were any different from any other mark." The assassin tensed, preparing to move forward.

Knowing he was toeing a very thin line, Izaya leaned back, casually ignoring the aggressive stance.

"Oh sure, I'd pay you with money," he said nonchalantly, "but I think we both know that's never really interested you. I can give you what you really want." He was in danger of overplaying his hand, but his body was starting to make his various injuries known. Izaya was pretty sure he had re-cracked a rib with his earlier roll.

"What I really want." The tone was flat, but Izaya detected the tiniest hint of curiosity. He grinned, locking eyes with the assassin.

"The money has never been your motivation. You kill because you love the thrill. The contracts you take are your lifeline to morality. You are a tool, killing for other's sake, because as long as you only kill those contracted, you're above a common murderer." Izaya savored the hard glint in Hideki's eyes for a moment before continuing. "I am an information broker. I know the kind of people who would have use for an accomplished killer, and I know enough of them to keep you busy for an indefinite amount of time." Izaya leaned back again, looking away from the assassin, supporting his weight on his good arm.

Silence followed for a long moment. I wonder if he'll accept? Having an assassin on a leash might not be a bad thing. Izaya wasn't really into killing humans; he had no interest in watching dead humans after all, but an man with Hideki's reputation could be used in other ways…

Huh, maybe I can get him to kill Shizu-chan?

"Not bad," Hideki admitted, "I'll take it back. You put up the most interesting bargain I've heard yet. Unfortunately for you though," he continued with a note of finality, " a contract is a contract."

Izaya prided himself on his reflexes. With his sizeable list of enemies it was imperative for him to stay one step ahead at all times, both figuratively and in some cases literally. So he was quick.

Hideki was faster.

Izaya had expected him to be, but it still took him by surprise just how fast the assassin moved. Hideki lunged for him and instead of rolling backwards off the bed like he had planned, the informant found himself barely able to get his legs up fast enough to keep from being pinned again.

The world slowed for a long painful second, Izaya's brain processing all the details in bursts of sensory input.

The overhead light the glinted off the blade intending to open his throat.

The feel of metal on bone as the weapon missed it's intended target and ground along the length of his collarbone instead.

The smell of antiseptic and the eucalyptus cleaner that Celty used to sterilize the room mixed with soap and shampoo that still clung to the towel around his neck.

The taste of bile in the back of his throat that he would like to believe was from pain and not fear.

The sound of four centimeters of surgical steel, in the form of a hidden scalpel he'd tactfully palmed during the conversation, burying itself into the right eye of his attacker.

There was a grunt of surprised pain, but no scream.

The world snapped back into high speed, Izaya managing to flip the assassin over himself in a move that was smoother than he could have honestly hoped for, given the circumstances. A deafening crash, accompanied by the sound of wood splintering, vials smashing and general clattering informed Izaya his assailant had probably collided with one of the shelves lining the walls. He rolled off the cot, staggering to his feet and risking a glance back.

Somehow, impossibly, Hideki was already on his feet, one hand clutching his face where the scalpel was still embedded, blood flowing freely down his chin. His other hand still held the tanto in a ready position and for the barest of moments his remaining eye met Izaya's and he smiled, too sharp and too large.

It wasn't rage, or vengeance or determination in the gaze, but the manic gleam of utter bloodlust. For a brief moment Izaya felt his breath catch and his body freeze up.

Shit…

And then his instincts kicked in and Izaya scrambled to get out of the room, nearly tripping over the downed IV pole in his haste. His chest protested the abuse he was forcing on it and his right shoulder felt awash with warm pain and a worrisome tingling where the knife had cut.

He stumbled out the doorway, using the doorjamb as a support and leaving a bloodied smear. A sharp pain in his calf made him glance down. He took note of the throwing knife that had nicked his leg and was now embedded in the far wall, end still quivering. Without another look back Izaya half limped, half ran for the kitchen, heart thundering in his throat.

How is he still…?!

"Agh!" Izaya's knee caught the coffee table and he stumbled, barely catching himself. Several movie cases, sheaves of paper and a stack of coasters went flying. Everything was spinning and just keeping his balance was becoming a near impossible task. He would never outrun the as assassin. Which means…

His instincts warned him he was being closely pursued. He heard the faint sound of footsteps on the scattered papers as he reached the kitchen counter, more sprawling on it than leaning and gasping when his chest collided with the marble. Spying his goal, Izaya reached for the knife block. His hand grabbed air, missing the handle of the largest knife. He tried again, shaking fingers straining for the weapon that his eyes were telling him was closer than it was.

The world was tilting underneath his feet, the counter with it and he couldn't seem to breathe properly. His hand finally grasped the knife in a clumsy hold and he turned slowly, far too slowly.

Hideki's face was inches from his own, awash in blood and smiling in a way that was too wide, too sharp for his face.

Before Izaya even had the chance to lift the knife, the ground lurched horribly, coming up to meet his head. He gagged as his body hit the kitchen floor, pain exploding behind his eyelids. Even from the floor, everything spun and lurched, his body strangely heavy and his leg burning where the throwing knife had cut him. Even through the muddle that was his brain he made the connection.

"Poison…?" Izaya rasped, trying to force his face into a smirk.

"A paralytic," the assassin grinned, looking manic with the sharp teeth and blood that still flowed from the squinted eye, "I'm done taking chances." He slowly lifted his arm making sure Izaya saw the bloodied scalpel held between his fingers. "I do plan on taking my time though. What's the saying? An eye for an eye?"

Izaya tried to force his body to move, to shift, to do anything. He could see the kitchen knife a few mere inches from his hand, but no amount of effort would convince his arm to move, his body a lead weight. Even his breathing was becoming labored and difficult.

No…

Hideki followed Izaya's gaze and, still grinning, he casually bent over and picked up the kitchen knife.

"It's been too long since someone gave me a proper challenge, you know," he said in a soft clipped tone, turning the knife over in his hand and examining it. He seemed to be ignoring the blood covering his face, running down his neck and chest, as though the gouged eye were a mere inconvenience. "Really. Thank you. This makes this part so much more rewarding."

Hideki straddled Izaya's body, bringing the blade towards his face. Izaya struggled to inhale, the added weight of Hideki's body on his chest making it impossible. He couldn't deny the icy fingers of fear wrapping his heart in a tight grip any longer.

"You're right about me actually," the assassin said softly, "I do love this part. There is nothing in the world that can compare to the feeling you get watching the life go out of someone's eyes…" He leaned in closer, voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "Are you afraid?" There was a certain glee in Hideki's eyes.

It was the glee of a child on Christmas morning.

The glee of a wife hearing she is pregnant after years of trying.

The glee of a man with a winning lottery ticket.

It was familiar.

It was the glee Izaya felt watching his humans react to the situations he put them in.

The familiarity was entirely too humanizing. It shook him more than even the thought of death for that moment.

His fear was quick to return, however when the point of the blade touched his cheek, right below his eye.

Wait…

The tip of the knife pressed ever so slightly, drawing blood.

Then an explosion like the sound of a gunshot thundered through the room.

"Shit-" Hideki swore, glancing behind him and pulling the knife away from Izaya's face for one long, relieving second, before plunging it into Izaya's throat.

The world shattered like glass. Sound, touch, smell, taste and sight breaking into millions of pieces, swirling together and then…

Nothing.

And then…

Something.

And he found himself wishing for the nothing.

-DRRR-

Shizuo was in the middle of a job with Tom when the call came.

Or he was at home.

Or at Russian Sushi.

Honestly, it all meant shit when the call came.

His day had been going pretty well.

Or maybe it had been shitty.

That didn't matter either.

What did matter was the nurse on the other end of the line, telling him he was receiving this call because he was the emergency contact.

And that sort of surprised him.

Or it didn't really, if he thought about it, because of course it would be him.

That was also not important.

"-Heiwajima Kasuka suffered several injuries, including a fractured left ulna, right humerus, several broken ribs and a sizeable concussion. He has yet to wake up-"

Shizuo must have asked how it happened. He didn't remember doing it, but he did recall the answer.

"He was the victim of a mugging apparently. The police are investigating, but there seems to be some gang involvement while he was filming in Saitama."

Gang involvement.

Victim.

Two broken arms, ribs and a concussion.

KASUKA.

Shizuo knew rage. He knew the feeling of losing all control to the burning red fire that was rage. He knew the feeling of being a passenger in his own body to that anger.

He also knew The Calm. He knew the empty emotionless efficiency of meting out his version of justice by any means necessary. It was the cold blue feeling of losing control.

He had recently begun to suspect the rage and the Calm were one and the same and that it was something completely other from Shizuo himself.

This feeling was not rage. It was not the Calm. It was neither, and both and more. He wasn't a passenger in his body this time. He was wildly, chaotically in control. If there was something other in him, for the first time, Shizuo was not fighting against it, but with it.

An emotion so white hot, so pure, so powerful took ahold and he let it. He directed it.

IZAYA.

The line had been crossed. The frail bond of his promise to himself meaningless against the onslaught of raw, unbridled emotion.

He felt the regret for not finishing the job when he had the chance, the resentment for even considering giving the informant a chance, the disgusted incredulity that Izaya would go this far, followed quickly by the bitter self-loathing for attributing any morals at all to his most hated enemy.

It all poured into him, feeding the cyclone inside him, making him feel unstoppable. He pitied anything that got in his way.

The journey to Shinra's happened in brief flashes that he could barely remember. He wasn't sure if he had walked, taken the train, bus or a taxi. Shizuo could faintly recall walking down an empty sidewalk, everyone giving him a wide berth.

He was in front of the apartment and in the elevator before he knew it. There were no uncertain thoughts plaguing him during this ride up. Shizuo couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so singularly driven.

He must pay.

…Actually it might have been that night he'd finally caught the flea bastard.

There was no regrets now though. He strode purposefully out of the elevator, pulse thundering in his ears.

He has to die.

He didn't knock. If Shinra or Celty answered there was no way they wouldn't be able to read the killing intent radiating from his every pore.

The door was locked, but there was no way in hell something as trivial as a door would stop him.

Shizuo kicked down the door hard enough to rip it from the hinges, the entire apartment shaking with the force.

Some part of his mind took in the upended coffee table, scattered kitchen utensils, splatters of blood and the surprised figure holding a scalpel, face awash with blood.

None of it mattered.

Because beneath the figure was his real target.

Kill him!

The only thing in the room that mattered.

The figure swore and plunged the scalpel into Izaya's throat, but Shizuo was already next to him, grabbing the man by his arm and hurling him. There was the sound of shattering glass from what had probably been the balcony doors. Shizuo turned back to his intended target, hardly noticing the blood literally pouring from his enemy's neck.

Shizuo reached out, intending to crush Izaya, once and for all and his world shattered…

She must be destroyed.

A/N: This was supposed to be longer… sorry. This story is getting pretty convoluted, so hopefully I can manage to produce something that makes sense by the end…

Still with me?