Chapter 30: Substitute
Clouds of white flocked together like a herd of lost sheep in the sky. It was a fascinating thing to watch a plane dive down from thin air.
Especially from the inside.
Having seen nothing but the blazing sun for the last couple hours Izaya sighed softly as he finally spotted some land.
Almost there.
"Хорошо, it's looking good."
Mild discomfort and the touch of an elderly man settled at Izaya's side and he glanced at the stitches that held his waist together. It was funny, the stabbing had happened, what? Two days ago? And still it healed incredibly fast. There was some discomfort and a heightened sense of sensitivity forcing him to move around a bit more cautiously than usual, but apart from that?
Not the kind of pain he would have expected.
But he guessed this was what he got for having been lucky enough to not have any of his organs grazed on the blades way in.
When he spotted a few blotches of red on their way to the airport he worried for a second that the confident doctor might not have done as amazing of a job as he had bragged, but it seemed those doubts were naught.
"So I'm not dying today?" Izaya asked the russian doctor that had agreed to join them on the flight in order to check up on Izaya.
Round glasses of incredible thickness sat on his nose and he quickly fixed them along with some grey strands of long hair as he laughed.
"At least not from the wound."
Izaya snorted at the very truthful but morbid joke and nodded shortly as a sign for dismissal.
They were currently sitting in a private jet owned by Creston. He despised close contact with other humans, which was a contradiction in itself considering how many of his meetings he set inside bars. But Izaya had long ago stopped to question his actions. Maybe the setting of a night club was just that much more comforting than any other place that it outweighed the disgust?
He couldn't tell. But he guessed something in Creston's life had affected his decision. Not that he was keen to know.
Looking over at the guy peacefully drinking a glass of wine he wondered what was wrong with him. Mentally. In various senses.
A pill was popped from its blister and with the noise of hissing snakes it submerged in a glass of water.
"Thank you very much," Izaya smiled as the stewardess approached with his desired painkiller.
He was suffering from a massive headache.
As much as he had wished for peace, their most recent transactions had led them to russia. Negotiations in Kurokovitch's homeland were what he insisted on and considering the favor he was doing them they had little choice but to follow.
Same applied to the alcohol served, of course.
Vodka.
Vodka.
And more vodka.
After a day of drinking followed by a night of drinking and the immediate flight leading back Izaya felt quite drained and accompanied by a pretty decent hangover.
It wasn't that he couldn't hold his liquor, he just hated alcohol in itself. Its effects, its taste and the pressure of being forced to consume it.
Soft vibrations against his pocket tore his mind away from his headache and he quickly took a sip from his headache relieving water before looking at his phone.
The signal was back.
Mail after mail dropped into his inbox along with missed calls, messages and what not. Rolling his eyes for a second Izaya breathed a breath of annoyance.
Couldn't people just work things out on their own for once?
It was fine that he was the one to negotiate most transactions and deals of greater magnitude, but the follow up of taking on those jobs was one hell of a hassle.
He was tempted to just ignore his phone altogether, but this was his goddamn beloved job.
Scanning the contents of his mails his eyes quickly flew across the screen.
Mails. More mails. Messages about the organisation, about hierarchy about-
And suddenly Izaya blinked as he read a message he hadn't quite expected.
"Taking a few days off work?"
Shizuo.
He had written-
Looking at the few words Izaya blinked for a second as a smile slipped into his lips. It were just six words, but somehow they elevated his mood better than the painkillers.
Was he checking up on him?
He had been gone for two days by now. One in home office and the other in russia.
Looking at the skyline dipped in the softest hue of purple he found himself looking forward to their landing more than before and his fingers typed away.
"Miss me already?"
He almost expected a call. A call that he would need to decline with Creston right next to him. The last thing he wanted was to get his attention focused on the bartender. And so he looked at his phone, ready to decline any incoming buzz.
But none followed.
Staring at the illuminated screen Izaya felt the slightest sensation of a let down. Had Shizuo read his message? Then again what was the time?
Looking at the top right corner of his phone it read 6pm and Izaya sighed in realization.
Of course.
Shizuo was working. He could hardly check his phone while mixing cocktails. If he even heard it through the music and people's chatter.
Rough rattling forced Izaya's face away from his screen for a second and his eyes returned to the window.
The airport laid before him and an infinitely long airstrip expanded before them as their flight had finally come to an end.
"Finally released from this can of fish," Creston groaned and Izaya watched him as he plucked his body out of his seat.
The gloves he always wore were taken off and a bottle of disinfectant quickly found its way out of his pocket. It was a rare sight even for Izaya. Creston's hands that is.
Chopped and ripped the skin around his knuckles and between his fingers screamed in agony as the cleansing liquid smeared across the cracks.
Words of caution or the fact that he was ruining his skin laid at the tip of his tongue, but Izaya was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.
Quickly grabbing his things, consisting of a bag fit for a laptop and various practical utensils Izaya slipped out of the plane.
A small staircase led to the vast cemented ground and their usual limousine parked not too far.
The purple of the sky had turned into light shades of red and served a pretty picture overall as Izaya descended the fight of stairs. Wind caught his hair and moved it as it wished, but compared to Russia this was a more than pleasant sensation. Nothing compared to the freezing temperatures ripping off your skin the moment you set foot on the land.
Glancing at his phone once more, Izaya almost hoped for a new message, but still, there was none.
It was a car following up from the side that caught his immediate attention and his phone was quickly shoved back into his pocket.
The limousine was one thing, but who was that?
Body tense and eyes narrowed he tried to make out its driver and passengers. Creston stopped too, but compared to Izaya he seemed much more overjoyed at the sight.
"Good timing," he announced, as if he had set this meeting up long ahead and Izaya relaxed.
The car's lights diminished quickly and the steaming engine came to a halt. It was when an unfamiliar guy, followed by a very familiar woman slipped out of the vehicle that Izaya understood who they were meeting.
Khrushchev.
He didn't remember scheduling an appointment, but it seemed Creston had- and without deeper knowledge.
Eyes narrowing, Izaya met Khrushchev's gaze. She had been driving the car.
Was wearing an attire that suggested she was nothing more than a humble side character as well and instead paid respect to the stranger walking up front.
Izaya was smart enough to recognize a disguise when he saw one.
Khrushchev's face was known to only a handful of people even in her own organization and she had made it quite clear that she wanted that fact to remain as such.
"Good evening, I believe this is the first time we meet? Khrushchev is the name," the guy of colossal size suddenly spoke with a deep and somber voice.
Offering his hand he had addressed Creston and despite his present reluctance to even approach the guy, none of it showed on his face as he simply smiled and returned the gesture.
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Khrushchev."
Funny.
Izaya hadn't had to deal with someone like Khrushchev before. Her entire appearance, the way she held herself down to her gestures and glances perfectly impersonated that of a secondary unit.
And the guy too. Izaya didn't know who he was, but this was obviously not the first time that he had presented his face in her stead.
Almost caused Izaya to wonder whether he had even talked to the real Khrushchev or not.
Creston of course didn't suspect a thing.
"I have heard your negotiations with my right hand have been successful. Are you here to seal the deal?" he asked with his best business smile in place.
"Down to the topic, right off the bat, I see," The guy impersonating Khrushchev announced, but his face showed no offense. "I'm willing to play along without any unnecessary games. Yes. It is. I have come to introduce you to my best men." Two more guys slipped out of the car as if having been issued a command.
Izaya had seen them and thought them to be bodyguards, but it appeared they were not.
"They will be overseeing every transaction, no matter how big or small," the fake Khrushchev announced. "I wanted to invite you for further discussion on the exact rundown of your operation."
It was then that Izaya's phone forced his attention down to the device by a simple buzz.
A message.
And Izaya didn't need to guess, to know who it was from as he briefly met Khrushchev's glance.
"Very well," Creston announced, blissfully unaware of how much he was being played as he smiled. "Shall we head on to a more comfortable location then?" he suggested and the fake Khrushchev nodded. "Show the way."
The car that they had come with was quickly being refilled and Izaya slipped into their own limousine's back along with Creston.
"Crescent road number 5," he announced quickly and the driver nodded, very well aware where to head to.
Pulling at his tie Creston sighed the moment the limousine moved.
"This was the last," he announced and Izaya snorted as his words implied Creston didn't intend to follow up on the meeting.
"What? Are you going to ditch Khrushchev halfway?" he joked, but the guy shook his head.
"No, but you won't be necessary."
Blinking softly Izaya searched for hints of a joke, but none were to be found. He wasn't necessary?
"What? Are you giving me the night off?" he grinned in cautious anticipation, but it seemed his guard was up for nothing.
Pulling a cigar from his jacket Creston cut off the tip before carefully lighting it with a match.
"Not that I am complaining," Izaya added as he tilted his head back to blow some smoke into the air.
A simple glance was cast, followed by a shrug.
"Everything is proceeding smoothly. A little too smooth even. No lead on us, no disruptions, delays or anything that might cause suspicion," opening the window for a brief moment he offered the smoke a chance to escape and a gush of fresh air appreciated by Izaya.
A smile spread across Creston's lips and for a second he just looked at Izaya.
"You did well."
The smallest shudder trailed down Izaya's back as he faced his boss.
He tended to forget, but there was a reason why Creston only masturbated to his sight.
Some kind of obsession over him.
His looks? His personality? His reactions?
Izaya couldn't tell. But from time to time he acted like that.
Like he was in love with him or something- honestly, that gaze made him feel even more nauseous than his expression when he fapped in front of his eyes.
But Izaya was wise enough to not react.
Creston was looking for a bit of disobedience when it came to masturbating. It was some sort of kink of his to force his ideas upon Izaya. But this? This obsession? It wasn't something to make a joke out of at any given time.
"I thank you for the compliment," Izaya even smiled and Creston seemed extremely pleased overall.
Tapping the headboard leading to the driver, the limousine slowed down briefly as he looked over his shoulder.
"Stop at the next opportunity," Creston announced and the cigar was extinguished in a small ashtray readied inside the car. "This is where we part," he announced, and the vehicle slowed down.
Grasping his phone and leaving his bag Izaya quickly offered an appreciative nod before opening the door. "I wish you a successful night then," he announced.
A nod, a smile and a minute were all it took for Izaya to be left behind.
Relaxing his body for a true moment of absolute peace, Izaya closed his eyes for a second to relish in the silence of the night.
A silence interrupted by cars of course and the general sounds of nightlife, but it was the most pleasant silence to him. No one spared him an eye. No one was interested in his person.
It was a similar sensation to his nights at the bar, minus the people that thought they could win his heart over or strike up a conversation capturing enough to garner his favor.
… what now?
Pulling his phone up to his face, Izaya looked at the last message.
Khrushchev was requesting a meeting. Time and date to be announced by her at random. Izaya had suspected as much. Today's spontaneous meeting was one that stemmed from curiosity rather than from productivity.
Izaya was in charge of this whole operation and she knew.
It was a little funny, how they were both the most essential parts of the machine that was their organization, but they kept hanging out false faces and pretenses.
Just that with Izaya it was the other way round.
The second message, marked by a star and moved to the very top, quickly caught Izaya's attention and his lips curled into a smile.
Right.
He had the night off.
He shouldn't waste an opportunity like that, now should he?
to be continued~
Next up- the bar xDD As if Izaya would go anywhere else by now hahaha
See you next friday everyone~! C: