:| |: Reunited at last :| |: - (Durarara Fanfic)-

🖤 T H I R T Y - F O U R 🖤

🖤Chapter Thirty-Four: Another Deadline 🖤

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Izaya Orihara. Twenty-Three years old. Current State of mind: Distraught.

It's been over a day since Inra was taken right under his nose, but he's never stopped looking. Not for a second. He hasn't been to his apartment in over a day, and he's made four separate phone calls attempting to ask for help- which was rare. Of course, no one answered. Why would they answer a call from the person they hated the most?

He didn't have time to make any more calls if they were going to be as futile as the previous four. It was now around seven in the evening, and the sun was setting.

He was walking around, the lack of sleep over the past twenty-four hours slowly sneaking up to him. He was currently walking down the sidewalk, distracted. So distracted, he didn't hear a voice calling his name.

A man suddenly appeared in front of Izaya, his clothing very dapper and poise. "Salutations Mister Orihara! How have you been on this lovely Thursday evening?" 

Izaya blinked, surprised to suddenly see a man in front of him- though he hid his surprise well. He opened his mouth to make a comment, but was cut off, 

"That's wonderful! I beg your pardon, Mister Orihara, but I was wondering if you would be willing to have a small chat with me. It's about something very dire."

Izaya didn't even get to say anything before the man wrapped an arm around his shoulder and began guiding him into the alley he was just about to walk past. It was a dark alley, making the afternoon air seem much later as the tall buildings blocked out what was left from the sun's glare. 

Izaya was guided down a steep set of stairs to what looked like a hidden underground bar. The outside was dirty and smelled of cigarettes with a bright pink and purple neon sign which read, 'TheRoseBush' in cursive writing that illuminated the outside entrance. Izaya was pushed inside, the smell of smoke and alcohol practically knocking him off balance. He's never smelt such a foul place before.

The bar itself looks small. Not being very wide, but is quite long. On the right was the long bar that stretched to the far end of the room. Behind the bar was a single oldish-looking man with a black fedora and similar attire to the chipper man behind him. He was whipping a glass clean with a cigar in between his dry and cracked lips. The bar held around fifteen stools, a few of them being occupied by drunk and passed-out men where they were currently standing.

On the left was a whole row of booths, only seven before they stopped. Most of them were empty, but a few mysterious men sat at a few, the men reeking of smoke and alcohol that Izaya could smell at the entrance. It took everything he had not to cover his nose and cough. 

Izaya was pushed forward slightly, and the man's voice grew steadily annoying to hear, "Don't be shy. Let's go sit down!" The man suggested, guiding Izaya forward and walked towards the end of the bar, sitting at the two farthest seats.

Soft jazz was being played over an antique-looking jukebox that was near the corner where they were sitting. It was behind the bar, so obviously only the bartender could control what was being played. He had the feeling before, but Izaya was violently made away of the moody and somber atmosphere in 'TheRoseBush' Bar. 

Izaya looked around, not caring about being discreet. The bartender was wiping out another glass, smoke rising from the top of his cigar. Customers were smoking and drinking liquor on the rocks, tapping their cigarettes and cigars on the ashtrays that were provided for each table.

Looking all around, Izaya noticed explicit posters and signs decorating the walls, and a back hallway hiding behind purple curtains made from strings of beads to the left where they were sitting- and directly across from the entrance door.

"Loke! A drink, please. And another for the newcomer."

Loke, the bartender finished wiping out the glass and pulled out two separate glasses, setting them down in front of him, and scooped in a small amount of ice into the glasses. "Who are you?" Izaya caught himself asking abruptly.

The man seemed shocked and slightly disgusted. "Where are my manners? Mr. Orihara, I beg for your forgiveness. My name is Anwir. I'm a simple businessman looking for a sponsor. You're a popular fellow and oh-so-kind. So I simply assumed you would help me." Anwir let out a small chuckle, opening his hand as his alcoholic beverage slid into his hand. He lifted it, taking a sip just as the second glass came sliding over, Izaya barely stopped it in time before it slid off the edge of the bar. "Forgive me if that is not the case, but I feel I have something you'd be interested in."

Izaya takes his hand off the glass, not wanting to drink anything right now. Especially from this place.

"Anyway, let's talk about what I have to offer in return before we begin." The smile on his face stretched into a sinister smirk, his old-fashioned top-hat tilted as it covered his eye. He reached in his vest pocket, pulling out a polaroid picture, flicking it around his fingers like a magician doing a card trick before slapping it face down on the table, sliding it towards him, "What I have, I'm absolutely positive you'll be interested in." 

Anwir took his hand off the picture, and leaned back in his barstool, picking up his drink, the condensation from the glass dripping onto the bar as he went to take a sip.

Izaya stared cautiously at the man in front of him who had a smirk on his face. He knew he had a weird feeling about this man. He reached his hand out to the picture, not breaking eye contact with the man. He flipped the photo over when he picked it up then glanced down at it. His eyes widened and he felt his breath get trapped in his throat.

The man chuckled. "So there is something you care about. I figured as much. There she is. My offer." Anwir leaned onto the table, his chin resting on his palm as he smiled smirk-ishly at Izaya as he stared down at the picture of his sister- a photo of her looking afraid as she hid under Izaya's coat hood. This was in the supermarket not even two days ago. "Now, what I want from you;... Is to join us."

Izaya's eyes narrowed at him, "Join you?"

"She didn't tell you? Hm, how cute." The man chuckled humorously, taking another swig of his beverage. "We gave her a month to convince you to join 'The Ophidians'. You've heard of us, I'm sure. You are an information dealer after all."

Izaya didn't say anything else, making the man's smirk widen even more. He reached over and plucked the photo from Izaya's hands, making Izaya reach back out for it.

The man smirked, pulling his hand back that contained the photo out of Izaya's reach. "Ah, ah, ah~... Join us, and you can have it back- as well as few more items in addition." He tucked the photo back into his vest pocket and stood up from the bar, pushing in his seat as he quickly finished the last of his beverage. "You've got a week before your time runs out... and the girls."

With that, the man slammed down money for their drinks before abruptly turning away, waving over his shoulder as he darkly bid farewell;

"Goodnight, Mr. Orihara."

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