A/N: Thanks for all the lovely comments and support, everyone! Enjoy!

"Their names were Ayumi Narita, Ichiro Nara, and Jiro Yamikawa," said Shiki as he let Izaya and Shizuo into his bloodied office. In the middle of the room, there were three bodies, lying side by side; they were only inches apart from each other.

Despite the spatters of blood that coated the walls and floor in messy patterns, the bodies themselves were oddly neat. All three of them were on their back, arms at their sides with their legs straight. Eyes closed, their clothes were clean. In fact, the only thing that confirmed their deceased states were the long, straight red lines that had been carved into their throats. Even the wounds had been carefully cleaned.

Izaya knelt down to inspect the bodies more closely.

Ayumi was on the left, her dark hair cropped short. Her pale skin was immaculate and cold. She was on the short side and dressed professionally with black dress pants, white oxford shirt, and black blazer. A pair of sunglasses were residing in her breast pocket.

Next to her, in the center, was Ichiro. He was a good five or so inches taller than her with a slightly crooked nose and short hair. He was wearing a more casual set of clothes: jeans, boots, and a light blue button-up shirt. His pockets were empty.

Jiro was on the right. He was shorter than Ichiro with longer hair. A small scar was etched into the skin on his left cheekbone, right under his eye. He wore a plain black suit. A silver chain sat around his neck, just under the slash across his throat. After Izaya turned out his pockets, Shiki tapped him on his shoulder and handed him a small piece of paper.

"This was in his shoe."

The paper had been folded neatly. It reminded Izaya of the paper he had been given. For all he knew, this too, had been Akito's work. When he unfolded the paper, all that had been written was the familiar "WG" enclosed in a circle. Izaya took his paper out and compared the two. The handwriting was different, the "PROJECTION" straighter and less bubbly than the "WG." He could feel Shizuo and Shiki looking over his shoulder.

"What's that?" Shiki asked.

"A paper I found after I was attacked last night. The handwriting is different, though."

"You were attacked last night?"

"Yeah. Here," Izaya handed him the report he had written, "everything that I've been able to find out so far is in here. To be brief, I think there are two new gangs in Ikebukuro: The White Gloves, or 'WG,' and 'BH.' My attacker said he was with 'BH,' and this is clearly the work of the White Gloves. Based on that information, they are working together, but are separate groups. For some reason, they are trying to destroy the Awakusu and anyone who witnesses the crimes they commit, like Shizuo and myself."

Shiki began flipping through the report, a frown prominently displayed across his face.

"I'm assuming you have information on these members of yours, and have taken photos of the crime scene."

"That is correct."

"I need you to print them out and give them to me."

"Can't I just email you?"

"I have mentioned in my report that I believe my computer has been bugged. I have a new phone but, if possible, I'd like to analyze hard copies."

"Alright," said Shki as he walked to the door, "I'll be right back."

After Shiki had quietly closed the door behind him, Izaya and Shizuo were left alone in awkward silence.

They hadn't talked about what had happened at the apartment. After Shizuo had kissed him, Izaya was beyond shocked. He had suspected that Shizuo had warmed up to him somewhat, but never would have guessed that he had developed feelings for him. After they had parted after what had felt like an eternity, Izaya was speechless. All he could do was take a seat on the couch and wait for Shizuo to be ready to leave. Even on the journey from Shinjuku to Ikebukuro, very few words had been exchanged between them. It had been strange. It had been uncomfortable.

During this uncomfortable silence, Izaya had considered his own feelings. He had never thought himself capable of feeling anything for anybody, other than the love he had for his humans, and the hatred he had for Shizuo up until recently. He realized he had been lying to himself. He and Shizuo had stepped into that alleyway as enemies, and had left as changed people. Had he developed feelings for Shizuo? He still didn't want to admit it. The kiss had made him feel warm. He had even felt happy.

"About what happened earlier…" began Shizuo after a few moments of silence.

"Is now really the best time to talk about that? We are standing in a bloody room with three corpses."

"If not now, then when?"

"Maybe when we're not standing in a bloody room with three corpses," out of the corner of his eye, Izaya saw the corners of Shizuo's mouth turn upward, "besides, Shiki will be back any second."

"You didn't hate it though, right?"

Izaya considered that for a moment before mumbling a soft, but sturdy, "no."

At that exact moment, the door opened to reveal Shiki, now holding a file filled to the brim with documents and photos. He handed it to Izaya.

"I'm going to read your report, and I want you to look through this. Let me know if you find anything new."

Shiki ushered them through the door and then, through the exit. Just as he was shutting the door, he paused and said in a curt and serious tone:

"Be careful."

Izaya and Shizuo headed off toward the train station at a leisurely pace. The sun was setting above them, bathing the sky in orange hues. The cold, winter wind had picked up during the time they had spent in Shiki's office. Izaya pulled his coat closer to his body, the file tucked underneath, away from prying eyes. A car drove by every once in awhile, but the streets were rather quiet. Winter made everything quiet.

"Izaya, I—" said Shizuo, but was cut off by an incredibly loud screeching noise.

Izaya's head snapped to look to his left, where Shizuo had been walking, to see him being pulled backward. It had taken a moment for his brain to process what was happening. A black van had come to a halt beside them. In flash, at least two sets of hands were yanking at the back of Shizuo's shirt. Izaya's hand reached out, desperately, trying to get a hold of Shizuo's arm or sleeve. Their fingers brushed together for a brief moment, as they stared into each other's eyes. Then, with one last pull, Shizuo was forced inside the van.

As it accelerated away from him, Izaya could see Shizuo's silhouette, through the back windshield, as it flailed and struggled against his captors. Something clasped over his mouth, and the silhouette grew still before disappearing all together. Then, the van faded out of view. For what seemed like forever, Izaya stood, arm still outstretched, uselessly reaching toward a hand that had disappeared. Perhaps, for good.