What is needed, rather than running away or controlling or suppressing or any other resistance, is understanding fear; that means, watch it, learn about it, come directly into contact with it. We are to learn about fear, not how to escape from it.-Jiddu Krishnamurti

"She's waking up!"

"Don't let her out!"

"Doctor she's escaping!"

"God dammit go after her!"

The evening had started out so lovely, so brilliantly; it was absolute perfection to the young man named Orihara Izaya. He was having the time of his life, getting his fix of what he enjoyed the most; messing with the proclaimed "monster", strongest man in Ikebukuro, Heiwajima Shizuo. It was their normal game of cat and mouse, but this one seemed to be much more lively to Izaya. As if they were taking the game up a notch, and he supposed that it would be considered a level up on the terms they were on now. Do not misunderstand, he still loathed Shizuo with a passion, and the feeling was mutual, but now he knew that he wouldn't quite enjoy their cat and mouse game ending anytime soon. Oh did he ever voice it so freely, so lovingly, enjoying the look of disgust on Shizuo's face as he began to lose his temper much quicker than he normally would.

To a normal person's view, Izaya's words would be considered to be a confession; a man who poured his soul out to the one he loved. But to a person who knew Izaya, and to a person who knew about the relationship he had with Shizuo, his words were basically a declaration of war. Words with a blunt meaning did not work for Izaya with his monster; they were tired and although they did still tug strings at the monster's mental stability, they just didn't quite have the edge they had to them before. Then so like a knife that lost its touch, he recovered it, kicking up his insults to not only confuse the monster, but shake him as well. The joy it brought Izaya was indescribable, it made him feel the jubilee of making his way into the monster's mind.

Laughter bubbled at his core and nearly took over his being; some may have called him crazy. Some may have called him insane. Maybe even the chance of calling him dangerous. Dare to even call him psychopathic. But he had no problem with people calling him this, for it was true after all. He was a no good person that mostly enjoyed people's misery; he was the type of person that people didn't trust. He was the type of person that looked like he could devour you whole if he gave you a certain look. Type of person you didn't want interested in you; hoping that he'd just stay far away from you. Looks that you know are very deceiving to the eye once you hear him speak a single sentence. That was just the type of person Orihara Izaya was, he knew it himself and enjoyed using it to his advantage.

And he did, oh so many times. He used anything and everything he could to his advantage, anything to give him the upper hand, the control over the situation. Observation, control, and action was practically his being after all, being in the business he was in. So here he was, using his advantage, control, over Shizuo, making the great discovery that his monster could be shaken so easily by his words of love. It made him wonder; Shizuo was someone he could never predict, could never pinpoint what exactly his next move was. What action he was going to take, when he was going to take action, where he was going to take it, and why, although why wasn't really something Izaya wondered since he doubted Shizuo even knew why. Why words like that could spark overpowering rage in Shizuo; he had no clue, but he did not really care.

Then so their cat and mouse chase began; Izaya running and Shizuo following close behind him. Neither had the intentions of killing the other tonight, deep down because on the surface it seemed like the opposite. Heated words were spat, each collective sound trying to somehow hit a nerve in their opponent. One person's words were simple, the other complicated and much like a puzzle, needed to be deciphered before they could be understood; but the opponent did not have time to even process such a puzzle. All it ever did was confuse him, and once the chase was over he completely forgot what the other said; it was just how it was. It was just how they continued this constant game of cat and mouse.

So their game went on, each person running, screaming, chasing, laughing; enjoying the little time where they could express such feelings in public without the suspicion of others. The game soon reached its peak, and soon fell into the abyss where their games usually ended. With a hop, skip, and jump, Izaya made his escape, leaving Shizuo so murderously scream and shout, letting out the feelings that Izaya constantly left him with each time they even looked at each other. It sent relief spiraling through him, and soon he would walk away from the scene, trying to erase Izaya's smug face from his mind. But Izaya, on the other hand, wouldn't be so lucky; he wouldn't be able to keep Shizuo off of his mind for a while. Although that was because he was planning for the next time they'd meet, and what would get under his monster's skin once again. Luck, it seemed, wouldn't be on his side the rest of the night either.

Although he escaped from Shizuo, he had yet to realize that he would soon need another escape plan. He had no warning for what was to come, if you thought about it, it was cruel. But, karma does tend to surprise people, and does she ever deliver. Izaya wasn't a good person; he didn't usually do good things when it came to his job as an informant. It wasn't unnatural that he would have a few enemies here and there; Shizuo ever so happened to be one of them. But most people, enemy or not, knew about Izaya's unstable behavior, ability to get the advantage in any situation, and how he could easily have you dead in ten seconds with a slash of his favorite knife. So people usually stayed away from him when they could.

But this night seemed to be different. He met with his clients, got some new information on different things, and everything went smoothly as usual. Then suddenly Izaya was surrounded by a group of men, armed men at no less. It wasn't anything he couldn't snake his way out of with a few words, a slash of his knife, and some major parkour. It wasn't like he was helpless and needed someone to save him, he has been in this type of situation before and he could take care of it himself. Besides, he figured that this would be some up-close observation of violent human activity. And did he ever love his humans.

"Orihara!" one of the men shouted with rage exploding from his voice, "You die here and now!"

Izaya's mouth curved, twisting into a sickly sweet smile as he put on his best innocent act, "What ever do you mean? Have I done something wrong?"

The man frowned deeply, his eye brows furrowing, his rage increasing steadily, "You know exactly what you did you bastard! Those men that attacked us, they got their information from you didn't they?! They killed the boss you asshole!"

Izaya displayed an expression of confusion, looking up as he put a hand on his chin, displaying the look that he was trying to remember if he did those actions or not, "Hm, I don't remember doing that."

"You liar." The man dangerously whispered.

Izaya shrugged nonchalantly, "You must have the wrong person."

Of course he was lying from his teeth, and of course he knew there was only a small chance that these men would actually believe the words coming out of his mouth. Unless these men were dumber than they looked of course, although even now Izaya doubted that even with the combined knowledge of these men they'd have the chance to be up to par with himself. He did have a big ego, but this thought wasn't purely out of cockiness, but mere fact. No smart man would rush into such situations head on like this, outnumbered or not. A smart man would plan strategically, using every part of the situation to his advantage to make sure that the plan went his way and his way only. Izaya doubted that these men had planned this that way. They obviously had only one thing in mind; Izaya's corpse on a silver platter.

"I knew that the boss shouldn't have trusted you." The man said, his hand slipping into his jacket and pulling out a gun.

'How cliché.' Izaya thought tiredly, bored already.

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about." Izaya said innocently, that sickly sweet smile returning to his face.

"Maybe this will jog your memory." The man said.

He lifted his hand to aim his gun at Izaya, the expression of rage still displayed on his face as his finger touched the trigger. Izaya just stood in front of him, not flinching in the slightest. A smirk grew on his face, a smirk that only a few people knew of, as this was the smirk that people would normally see before meeting their death. His eyes sparked, and he suddenly found himself very interested in this situation again. As soon the men saw him open his mouth, they also aimed their guns at him, wasting no time to protect themselves from the madman. Then in one swift movement, two men were on the ground bleeding, deep slashes across their chest and face. The two men were rendered weaponless as Izaya kicked their guns away, and it didn't look as if they'd be up anytime soon.

The men wasted no time aiming once again and pulling the trigger, sending bullets flying towards Izaya, in which he used one of the two men as a shield. He slowly took steps backwards before he felt the sharpest pain in his torso, the sting running through his nerves and causing him to finally have a true expression of pain on his face. A force pushed him forward as the foreign object that intruded his body pulled out of him. He fell to his knees, doubling over in pain, losing grip of the man he used as a shield. Bullets were still in the air, and he knew his only escape was behind him. But he felt the foreign object pierce through him once again through his torso, bringing back that horrible feeling of pain as it coursed through his body.

It was obvious that if Izaya didn't move, the intrusions to his body would continue mercilessly and most likely will lead to his death. He used his free hand to switch open his knife, flicking his wrist and flipping the knife in his hand. Swinging his arm back, he felt his weapon make contact with the man behind him, piercing into his leg as the man did Izaya's torso. Izaya didn't wait a moment as he got to his feet and began making swift, wide steps backwards, using his shield for all that it was worth. Then he broke into a breath taking sprint, dropping the dead man in the process. He spiraled through alleys, the echoes of footsteps following him where ever he went, no matter what direction he took. They were persistent; it took all of Izaya's strength to lose them as he sneaked his way into a construction site.

At last he finally lost the group, but he was actually worried at the moment; he was bleeding out, and rather quickly. The physical strain he put on his wounds when he sprinted resulted in his injuries becoming worse; although there were a few on his face and his arms that were unaccounted for by Izaya. He took steps towards the exit of the construction site, and onto the street where there were no signs of the men anywhere in sight. His feet were slowly starting to become more and more heavy with each step he took, feeling as if someone attached cinder blocks to his feet. Clutching on to what chances he had, he sat in an alley, leaning on the wall behind him, then searched through him for his phone. He silently cursed as he felt no sign of his phone on him; figuring he must have dropped it during the confrontation he had earlier.

Leaning his head back against the wall, he scoffed, thinking to himself, 'To think I would be taken down by such a vague attack.'

He felt his eyes become heavier, his vision becoming blurry as his thoughts kept flowing, 'I'd love to see the look on Shizu-chan's face right now. I bet he'd be smiling to see me dying such a weak death.'

"Orihara-kun?" a voice asked, a voice as soft as summer rain.

He looked in the direction of the voice, seeing the blurry figure of a person. His eyes tried to fix their gaze on the figure, trying to figure out just who this person was. The figure was definitely short, and it definitely had long hair; his brain identified the figure as a girl, the body frame too slim to be a woman. If he were able to speak, he would ask about her presence, and how she knew his name, although it wasn't really difficult to find out his name. But his body was rendered useless as he began to lose consciousness, his body going limp, and his breathing going at a dangerously slow pace; this was most likely where he would meet his end. Suddenly, he could faintly feel hands cupping his face, the figure coming closer. His eyes were practically closed as he felt something his face and stream down it elegantly.

'Tears?' he thought, 'Just who?'

The figure rested their forehead against Izaya's a soft whisper coming through their mouth, "Let us meet again."

'What?' he thought as he met the darkness that was his death.