Chapter 2: Masks and liars
Light after light flashed past the darkened bulletproof glass as the roads flew by. Quite like an array of ants carrying stars on their back.
Dancing across Izaya's nose he turned his face to the side in order to avoid the unpleasant sensation.
He was suffering from a headache ever since he had gotten into the limousine and the flashing lights were not bettering his situation.
The soft vibration of a message diverted Izaya's attention towards his phone, resting on the side seat. He didn't need to check to know who had written and what the contents were.
Scrolling the window up front down, he addressed the old, white haired driver. "How much longer?" A short glance was cast backwards and impatient tapping of fingers against the steering wheel followed. Izaya's face reflected in the rear mirror and he duly noted that he looked astonishing.
As every evening.
"We will be there any second now," the driver announced after the traffic light in front finally decided to switch to green.
Nodding shortly Izaya scrolled the window back up and leant back into the expensive leather.
A glass of sparkling wine had been served to him as soon as he had entered the vehicle and now desperately cried for attention as it had been left untouched.
Not even casting a glance towards the drink, Izaya crossed his legs.
Dark pants, sitting perfectly in all the right places accentuated his hips and flawless figure, just as the black satin shirt hugging his shoulders. Two necklaces, one longer than the other accentuated his collarbones and only added to his overall dangerous, but attractive flair.
The top coat that had previously covered his shoulders had been tossed aside carelessly and after a thirty second ride the limousine finally halted.
Cold air, filled with the scent of perfume, cigarettes and hormones gushed inside the vehicle as soon as the driver opened the door.
"We arrived, sir."
Casting one last glance towards the untouched glass of sparkling wine Izaya slipped out of his seat.
Countless people were queuing up before the club. It was to be expected, but the knowledge that he would have to wait out here within these busy rows until Cyle arrived still dimmed his joy greatly.
The club was called Night Salvage.
He had been here a lot of times before.
Useless chatter and even more meaningless laughter pierced his eardrums from all sides as he leant against the poles carrying the velvet ropes that parted the waiting masses.
Countless glances rested on his body, the second people laid eyes upon him.
Not all of them were admiring his beauty, some hoped for a small interaction.
A favor here a gallant word there, in hope they would gain access to free drugs once they established a relationship with him.
Too bad for them.
Because Izaya was the one drug dealer that did not partake in these useless pretentious acts of courtesy. Calling favors, giving favors, those were actions that appeared more like a hassle than a benefit.
Especially now with a searing headache and zero will to interact with anyone.
Gladly his wait was cut shorter than expected.
Another limousine, black and menacing, just as his own had been, arrived at the party scene.
Just as before the driver rose from his seat to open the door for his client, but was quickly beat to it.
Opening simultaneously the backdoors revealed two bodyguards left and right.
Men of massive stature and even grander cost.
Izaya had never asked their price, but if he had to guess they were probably making twice what he did per hour. Rectified of course, considering the client.
Finally a man in his late thirties emerged from the limousine. The gym was his best friend, just as money and the sweet voice of subordinates bringing the results he desired.
A pair of glasses rested on his nose. Finely crafted and expensive.
Izaya had heard a rumor that they were made of ivory and emeralds.
The slightest hint of amusement grazed his lips as he thought of the green colored jewel.
Always emeralds.
He really wondered where that fetish came from.
Cautious glances and immediate glares were executed by the two gorillas in company as their client advanced.
Judging eyes skimmed the area for Izaya as the man adjusted the white gloves protecting his palms.
Pushing himself off the pole Izaya quickly steered towards the guy, but a woman came before his entrance.
Moving past the ominous character that had arrived at the club she was a bit too captivated by his appearance as the presence of a gully missed her attention.
With a quick, inelegant jerk she twisted her ankle on the spot and rid her heel of what gave it its name.
Attentive gazes and tensed bodies watched the scene unfold. The people nearby probably expected the bodyguards to drag her body out of the way or execute any similarly cruel action.
Of course not.
A dangerous aura circled the newly arrived man of importance as he politely extended his arm.
"Are you hurt?" His voice was a mix of rough wood and velvet. Like a smoked salmon over dark coal. Pleasant. Dangerous.
It matched his cinnamon colored eyes and hard jawline hinting at his Russian roots. Nut colored hair forming curls, but having been gelled back strictly only accentuated his good looks. He was one of the few men that could wear a short beard without giving off the impression of a homeless person.
Surprised at the gallant action the woman quickly nodded as the guy pulled her to her feet. Her long black cocktail dress, garnered with jewels made of simple, but finely crafted glass glittered in the dim light of magenta and turquoise.
Izaya dully noted that she would have been Cyle's type. Black, long hair, pale skin, perfect body- she looked a bit like Izaya in a way, but female.
A simple nod was given towards one of the bodyguards and their client spoke.
"Would you take care of her heel for me?"
It was a question. But Izaya knew it was no question.
Only a maniac was going to turn down a request from this man.
Batting her eyelashes in an unmistakable attempt to garner his affection the young lady smiled while pushing her long black hair behind her ears.
"Thank you, sir."
Shoving his way past a few gaping bystanders, Izaya quickly made his way forward.
"Izaya."
Adjusting his finely crafted gloves a smile spread across the man's expression, but Izaya knew better than to mistake it for actual joy of his sight.
"Sir, your partner is waiting downstairs," Izaya quickly informed and Cyle's expression shifted to actual joy. A face that Izaya knew too well but despised nonetheless.
Joy in this man's face always held a sinister component, because those were the only opportunities he enjoyed. Chances where he could execute his sadism.
"As expected," Cyle agreed and his bodyguards opened the way.
The doormen of course knew who this man was and quickly shoved a flock of irrelevant people aside.
"Good evening, Mr. Creston," they greeted in awful unison. A choir would never be a place they should seek as their voices were anything but harmonious.
A short nod was given by Izaya, because there was no way Cyle would even glance towards people this far below his status.
Thrumming sounds of bass, music, cheers and needless chatter hallowed in the hallway leading to the many dancefloors. Izaya had never been a fan of volumes that prevented decent conversation, but right now he was downright annoyed at the way the music aggravated his already brimming head.
Cyle seemed to notice his slight change in demeanor and showed an amused smile.
"Why so tense?" Izaya knew better than to take the words for actual concern.
Cyle probably thought Izaya was vary because of the deal that was about to take place.
A joke. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really. By now Izaya couldn't really care less what amount of coke they were dealing with, the times where he had been nervous because of a baggie in his own pants were long over.
"Just a stiff neck," he quickly lied and Cyle refocused his attention on the stairs ahead.
Izaya had hardly ever looked forward to the oval lounge as much as he did today.
Immediately upon entering the pleasant sound of peace ruled the air.
The music was still there, but vastly muffled by the thick walls. A few people had arrived to dance, but not too many which acted in Izaya's favor.
A guy, guarded by a russian man who looked like he had been pulled out of a book describing ethnicities by their most common traits, sat beside their newest client.
He was huge. Probably meant to scare off common people.
But not Izaya, nor Cyle.
A gun was going to take care of anyone, no matter how huge, well built or strong they were.
Stepping aside, Izaya already knew the protocol to be executed.
"Mr. Mikhailovitch," Izaya politely nodded towards their client who rose from his seat at the speed of lightning as soon as he laid eyes upon Cyle.
"Mr. Creston, dobre dien, it's an absolute delight to be able to meet you here," hands were raised and a quick shake given as Cyle smiled.
"The pleasure is all mine."
Mimicking Mr. Creston's expression, their client signed to take a seat.
"Tak, shall we start?"
A last glance was exchanged between the respective bodyguards of these men and Izaya nodded curtly upon meeting Cyle's glance.
"I will be at the bar."
It was as much of a question as it was a statement and Cyle showed a short approving blink before Izaya slipped away from the table.
The flashing lights of magenta and turquoise were not exactly easy on his eyes and he quickly circled to the most peaceful spot in this area.
A seat, to the very right of the bar.
Shaded in most welcome darkness and illuminated by the shelf of whiskies on the side it was the perfect spot to relax in without having to worry about being watched or bothered from all sides.
It was his favorite spot.
And taken.
An elegant woman, clothed in a high low cut dress of white chattered away happily on her phone. Her skin tone was that of melted chocolate matching perfectly with her curled black hair and golden make-up accentuating her pretty eyes. Long earrings glittering like morning dew grazed her shoulders and a reverse necklace trailed down her bare back.
But as gorgeous of a sight as she was, she was sitting in his seat.
"Water please," Izaya said as soon as he arrived at the counter.
The usual barlady serving behind gave a quick nod before grasping a long drink glass from above.
"No way!"
Chuckles and laughter too high pitched for Izaya's tastes resounded from the woman holding her phone and Izaya couldn't quite hide a roll of eyes.
She was annoyingly loud.
"Hey, you," he addressed her and she turned as quick as she spoke. "Yes?"
A smile as polite as he could manage in his annoyed state grazed his lips. "Could you please leave and drink your cocktail somewhere else?"
He had expected a smile, politeness and of course an action fitting his request.
He got none of that.
"Huh? Who are you?" her brows furrowed in unnecessary offense and her body language spoke of anger.
Great.
So she was new.
"My name doesn't need to concern you," Izaya quickly spoke, already regretting his request. He was not in the mood for senseless banter with a stranger.
Crossing her arms she rose a brow, obviously completely misreading his intentions.
"I have a boyfriend."
Receiving the glass of water decorated with a piece of lemon and straw, Izaya sighed shortly.
"And I have no interest."
"You fucking-"
"Clarie-!" another woman, just as pretty but obviously more diligent in her research suddenly approached from the side.
Judging by her quick stride and horrified expression she was going to take care of what Izaya wasn't up to.
Grasping the offended woman by both shoulders she obviously knew her well and quickly apologized in her stead.
"I'm so sorry, was she rude?" Shutting up immediately her friend seemed to recognize there was something going on she had no clue about and wisely kept her lips shut.
Looking at the two Izaya sighed.
Coming in here with no knowledge was about as dangerous as entering a sword fight without armor.
Her friend was obviously aware. The woman called Clarie was not.
But Izaya doubted she would remain clueless for much longer.
"Not enough to make me remember," he finally said and the relief was visible in her eyes as she grasped her friend's wrist.
"Thank you very much for your kindness."
Lights flared, the music dropped and as quick as the beats traversing the walls the two were gone.
Pulled after like a mother duck guiding her child she had pulled her friend Clarie away and Izaya sighed contently as he slipped into his favorite spot.
It was then that a voice he was unfamiliar with rose in front.
"Why did you chase her away?"
to be continued~
Alright we got Shizuo, we got Izaya- now let's merge xD See you next Saturday everyone