Disclaimer: I do not own the magnificent story line or characters of Durarara!

Author's note: Sorry it's taking so long, I have great ideas and can't wait to write more, but you know… life, school, unimportant stuff like that. Thank you for that one review, whoever you were. I promise the next chapters will be great.

- Shizuo never stopped beating those guys up, one after another. It did him well to release all that stress and anger but now he was truly worn out, his super solid muscles aching , making movement seem difficult. He can't even remember the last time he felt like this, it was probably many years ago. His blue sunglasses given by his brother were long gone, crashed under their feet, his shirt ripped apart here and there, his bow tie obviously missing.

Yokoshima's men had strict orders to follow and they knew that if the blond managed to escape, he would ask for help and they will stand no chance against the already formed chain of Ikebukoro's elites. No matter how many were badly or deadly injured, this was like a Kamikaze mission and they knew that when they accepted it.

The strongest man of Ikebukoro, turned out to be only human in the end, feeling exhausted and hurt. Four men quickly grabbed his already sorrow hands and the others backed off, seeing clearly that the one in the bender outfit wasn't currently able to fight back anymore.

In less than a minute, faster than Shizuo could process at the time, a van stopped in front of them and he was pushed in, a few big guys following him inside. He stared at them with big, almost innocent golden eyes, his eyebrows not curved anymore. The blonde noticed a new man in the van, wearing a lab coat and holding an enormous syringe in his hand. While Shizuo's arms were pinned down, he was injected with that clear liquid in both his hands and legs, a little in each, right into his tense muscles.

Without any further ado, he realized that was some kind of sedative that paralyzed his limbs, making him unable to move and even feel them. The sensation scared him, he was so light weighted, from head to umm… toe, or better said, from head to stomach. It was enough to make him a bit dizzy, but not enough to actually take over or blurry his line of thoughts.

He sat there in the back of the car, like a sad kid punished for breaking a few windows. He was able to see nothing else but people stuffed in that damn van and the closed door, until he was blind folded and a strong piece of duck tape was put on his mouth, covering it competely. Everything went black.

Everything was black.

Izaya's bruised hands were tightly tied down to a metal strut. He was hanging up, his feet not touching the ground and his head resting on his chest. His low-cut shirt was soaked with a dark liquid, blood.

Slowly, the informant was gaining his consciousness back, forcing his eyelids to open. He was sore, his body was aching painfully. "Damn!" he swore, he was tied up. It took a while for him to get along with the pain on the back of his head, it felt like he was being squished under a rock. To summarize, he felt horrible, only one thing was comforting him, a warm fluffy coat embracing his cold, beaten, broken body. They left his jacket on him, that was a big mistake because there was a small pocket knife in there that wasn't detectable, he made sure of it. The second huge mistake they made was that they left him hanging near a wall.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA" , the laugh could barely be heard, but the smile on his bruised face was obvious.

Izaya tried moving, not a good idea, obviously. He felt his wrists burning, supporting his body's weight. A short scream of pain escaped his lips, making him want to rather get rid of his hands in order to just get out of here.

Happily , his feet were not injured and after many painful fails, he stepped on the wall next to him, forcing his body closer to the stone wall, finding some sharp edges and rubbing the rope holding him onto them.

"That's more like it!" , the rope was slowly breaking thread by thread and the wood door was right in front of him, so close no matter how far.

A few minutes passed and a loud sound broke the silence. Izaya freed himself and fell. He was happy, thinking that he was alone since no one came, yet, hearing him move around, laugh and scream. He was still smiling when he realized he can't get up, no matter how hard he tried, his body did not listen.

After considerable effort, he got up on his own feet which felt like aldente noodles. Izaya made it to the door, that was unlocked. "Can it be that easy? Seriously?! What? They think I'm a helpless puppy?!" He was outside Ikebukoro, in the middle of nowhere, remark made by looking through the dirty window of that abandoned house.

The hurt informant almost made it outside when a car stopped in front of the door and some people got out of it, entering the house , heading to the stairs leading to the basement where they left Izaya. 'Oh! Okay, that was fun, now I'm screwed… again', he thought. The sound of their steps was louder by second. Izaya grabbed the knife in his pocket. 'I'm in no condition to fight, even I know that' he thought laughing at himself. Warui and his men rushed into the room only to find the boy giggling. One approached him and got a deep cut on his arm but that didn't stop the other guy from giving Izaya a punch in the abdomen. He coughed violently, his throat still full of blood from before. The big guy there, grabbed his fragile body with a hand, throwing him over his shoulder and holding him in place. Right now, he felt like a 4 years old kid fighting a 16 years old one.

They brought him to the basement again, placing him on a solid chair, no handcuffs, nor rope to keep him in place.

"Mr. Orihara, I do respect you. That's why I'm offering you a deal here. Help me take over Ikebukoro, I suppose you can already imagine how fantastic it would be, us working together, the whole Japan would bow down to us", Warui said in a prompt low voice

"Sorry mister Yokoshima, but Ikebukoro is mine and I don't like sharing my toys." Izaya said simply, wanting to get up, but being pushed back down by the two men.

"You don't have much of a choice" he added looking at the celling.

"Oh, you're gonna beat me, I'm so scared" Izaya acted and got what he asked for, a punch in the face enough to smash his nose. Yet, he was still smiling. "I got it worse than this, so go on"

"Yea?!" The old man came right in front of him, opening Izaya's favorite switch blade and drawing quickly a straight line onto his chest, drops of blood forming on it, like a constellation and then falling quicky. "This is yours, right?". Izaya screamed, letting his head back.