Earthbound Humans

It was late on a Monday night, not the most interesting day in Ikebukuro. Izaya was sitting at his desk, the dollars chat room open as he kept an eye on it as he decided to sort through a shipment he had gotten from America. A few sore business men in Japan had become very interested in a certain American company called Nebula Pharmaceutical* ever since they had started to try buying up Japanese companies. He had heard about them before and was quite aware that they were not what they seemed. He was fully aware of the entire business of the Nebula corp. trying to buy Yagiri Pharmaceuticals with the main purpose being to obtain Celty's head. Since a client that was living in Japan had asked him if he could pull anything, Izaya had someone smuggle a briefcase of original documents. He had been watching the foreign web a lot closer lately, not to over look an outsider again. He smelled something was up a mile away he was sure that it hadn’t been the documents the client was only after.

Izaya was not a courier, he was an informant. He would never hand over anything without knowing what it was, his career depended on knowing after all. And he had gotten a little more careful lately. He placed the briefcase on his desk and opened it with a small click.

It all seemed pretty mundane and normal. Finance reports, sale numbers, some birth certificates, things like that. He rest his chin on his hand as he read through the more informative information. “Ah.. Such a long slow night… no one is even online to distract me”

He went through each document before he reached the bottom of the briefcase. He rolled his eyes. “Heh.. Its like they don’t think it’s obvious there is a fake bottom on this” He shakes his head and sighs. The briefcase is obviously way too heavy and shallow to only contain paper.

He fidgeted around with the case until , low and behold he found the secret compartment. “Hmm~ so lets see what you really wanted from America~” He smiled at the slight break in the monotony, eyes slightly curious to see what it was.

“Eh?” He blinks at what is revealed. “A book?” he grinned softly. The book seemed very old. It was carefully placed in plastic and sitting comfortably in the padded lining of the suitcase. It was obviously of importance which made Izaya’s grin grow a little wider. “Let me see here~” He stands up and fetches himself a pair of white cotton gloves before he handles the book, he didn’t want to damage it.
Different ideas for what the book contained started running through his head and what could it have to do with a Pharmaceutical company? He pondered as he looked at the text. He was not expecting Japanese.. But it wasn’t old English either., not exactly. It seemed like a mix of lot of old languages. He concentrated, using his language skills he has learnt through his informant work. It was a little fill in the blanks but one word stood out.

Alchemy.

“Alchemy…” he said the word again in his head. He started to laugh “ALCHEMY~! How absolutely, wonderfully absurd~! Ahahaha~!” He rocked his chair slightly as he laughed. “Don’t tell me those scientists are getting that desperate~! Really?” Being the type of person to speak aloud to himself, he read out loud as he tried to make sense of the dead language

His laughter stopped as abruptly as it started. “This is from the same company that wanted Celty’s head.. They seem to have even more deep dark secrets then I first gave them credit for~” He smiled to himself as his choice to start expanding his over view was starting to pay off so soon.

His eyes went back to the book. He read the book as best he could, his Latin was a little rusty. It was soon clear what this books main subject was. The elixir of life. “Well~ Celty is proof that it is possible to live beyond the natural order of things~ to think humans may be possible to recreate this.. Ah~ well scientists are just modern day alchemists aren’t they?” He continued to think about this, his brain trying to sort everything, go through any detail it might already know. He had heard rumours of immortals.. Stories really.. Of people that seemed to re-appear many years later and still looking no older. Of people that could not die. Almost.. Godlike. He tapped his fingers on the desk. Could this all be related?
He went back to the documents that were suddenly much more relevant now. These birth certificates.. He thought these must be very good fakes to be used for some shady reason or another.. A lot of foreigners payed a lot of money for a new life in Ikebukuro. He knew something was up. There were doubles.. Even triple copies of the same person.. But from different eras.. He spread the birth certificates out putting the appropriate ones together. Each file having a photo attached.. It was unmistakable. His face serious now. How could this be? Was this meant to be proof of the morals turned immortal? He picked up the first file, he punched the name into the search engine, the first thing to come up was a newspaper article ‘1931: Incident on the Flying Pussyfoot’. His brain was moving so fast now he could barely keep up.

Izaya did not get much sleep that night.
*

He at some point had fallen asleep at his desk, he awoke when he heard people starting to move around in the building, starting their day of work.
He yawned and stretched as his mind slowly started to remember everything from last night. “So” He said to himself picking up two files and moving them closer. “Let’s start with what I remember last” He looked down at the files. “ Isaac Dian and Miria Harvent.. They are in Japan.. I guess this is where I start from~” He smiled to himself. “Immortal humans.. Are still humans after all~ I wonder what an exceptionally long life as an immortal human does to someone?”

He put the files aside, making a note to get a copy of all of them and moved the old book in front of him. Would someone really want to live forever on earth? No.. being earthbound forever was not an appealing thought.

He was still not a hundred percent certain on the whole ‘Elixir of life’ but their was defiantly something going on. Something big. Even if it was or wasn’t true, it seemed that people were interested in trying to recreate it. These files, this book, stolen from the Nebula company…it was the key to finding out what this was all about. It gave him such a delicious amount of leads.

“Hmm…It seems we may have yet to see the peak of the war quite yet..” His smirk even wider then usual.
“Humans are~ so much fun, this is going to be so much fun!~” He laughed almost manically.

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This is a RP for me and Ronny to start off the events that this Forum is all about~! Feel free to read to keep up-dated with all the goss ='D Sorry about the wall of text, I started having revelations along with Izaya as I wrote! ^^;;

(*Nebula Pharmaceutical. A Sector, which was involved in research studies involving the immortals. It is mentioned in Durarara, Baccano and Vamp. Watch episode 9 in both Bacanno and Durarara! )

Ronny flipped his silver pocket watch from one hand to the other, mesmerized by the changing tints of sunlight glinting off the surface. He had approximately four hours to return to the hotel where he would meet Maiza and the newly arrived Firo. He would make his way back in time to position himself at the same lobby chair Maiza had left him at this morning. To Maiza, the secretary's inertness would be as usual.

Ronny knew if he told Maiza that he had to meet someone, the bespectacled Mafioso wouldn't question his intentions. Maiza didn't know Ronny's precise reason for staying by his side, but he at least knew the demon was not doing it out of his obligation. As far as Maiza was concerned, Ronny was free to leave whenever he chose and yet he stayed. It was futile to question it.

That is precisely why Ronny didn't inform his companion of his absence. He had no reason to. This didn't involve him. In fact, his reason for standing outside a Japanese business complex in downtown Shinjuku was in no way related to the life he had led for the past eighty years.

It had everything to do with the life he had led for centuries, as a demon.

Ronny yawned and stretched his arms out over his head. His tired bones cracked out sharply against the measured sound of the passerby's cheerless footsteps.

Well, he thought, it was about that time.

Ronny leaned his face forward into the intercom's speaker and pushed the red button.

“Ko-n-ban-wa,” Each syllable was followed by a long pause and the rustling of pages. “Ah, here it is. Ronny Sukiart to-mo-u-shi-masu. Orihara-san, yo-bi-ma-shi-ta-ka?”Following the soft thud of a closing book, the intercom buzzed off.

____________________________
“Good evening. My name is (respectably) Ronny Sukiart. You called?”

Izaya was not expecting clients this early in the morning, he raised his eyebrow slightly at the fractured Japanese. He recognized it vaguely as a diluted American accent, with a mix of something he could not pinpoint, most likely something European. Was this an associate of his client? He did not recognize the name at all. He turned on the Security camera at the door bringing the video feed up on his computer. “…..?” The blonde man that Izaya saw was not someone he recognized.. If anything at first glance he seemed to look like an average business man, not annoyingly over the top like the other American ones from Hollywood. Before Izaya even replied he had already decided in his mind that this man was going to interesting, he could tell by the look in the others eyes.

He had considered not answering but he knew that the other was someone he would want to meet. Even if he was tired and a little irritable right now. It was an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had become so accustomed to people watching that after a while he had just start to notice humans that were especially interesting to him.

He pressed the intercom button and replied in English. “Good morning Mr Sukiart~ You are lucky I am in so early~ one moment please~” He let go of the intercom button and frowned to himself. He had not copied the files yet.. And he was far from finished looking at that book. He quickly but carefully packed the book and the files back into the briefcase then placed it under his desk before going back to the intercom. “The door will be unlocked when you hear the buzz, please let yourself in~ Fifth floor at the end of the hallway~” he let go of the intercom button and another button to unlocked the door. The main door unlocked with a buzz.

He straightened himself up slightly and sat back down at his desk, watching the security camera to make sure Mr Sukiart was alone. He wondered if this man knew about the secrets in the briefcase.

Cued by the grating buzz, Ronny stepped away from the intercom and sidled over to the glass doors, welcoming in their transparency anyone who cared to visit. The glass revealed an austere interior filled with a stainless steal center desk and royal purple sofas. It was a lobby dressed in the simplicity typical for an ever-changing business complex. Starter businesses flourished there and went on to find better quarter in taller skyscrapers or failed, and the ruined men were abandoned on the street where the lobby's transparent bareness served as a reminder of their own naked shame. This was a place the desperate and ambitious came alike to seek acceptance.

Then, of course, there were those who came to give it to them. They were men who seized the emptiness of the complex and--witnessed in the arch of their sweeping gestures to an imaginary audience of thousands or in the bemused smile that simultaneously mocked and nourished the sycophant's borrowed dreams--decorated it in the flames of their ingenuity.

This was a place for devils, and the men who came, carrying the remains of their integrity in a cardboard box, to make deals.

Tilting his head up, unknowingly facing the video camera in which such a devil studied his every move, Ronny yawned and once rejuvenated, walked through the door.

Moments later, a cigarette dangling from his dry lips, Ronny was knocking on the door down the hallway of the fifth floor.

Izaya heard the knock on the door and he stretched and yawned like a cat before standing up. “Ah~ I will be right there~” He casually walked over to the door to unlock it. “Welcome Mr Sukiart, you are up bright and early~” He welcomes the other as if they were an old acquaintance. “Come on in~” He turns with a smile to go sit down, gesturing for the other to take a seat in front of the desk.

He was already getting an odd feeling. He was not sure how to explain it. It was similar to the feeling he got when around people like Celty or Simon. A person he should watch himself around..and not because of just fists.

He looked up at the blonde American as he rest an arm on the desk. “And how may I help you this morning~?” Izaya knew that this was something to do with the briefcase from America, but on the slight chance it wasn't it was best to have the man explain himself first because he certainly was not expecting this man. “Oh~ And there is no smoking in here~ I can't stand the smell I am afraid” It's true he did not like the smell of cigarettes..

This man was not the hired grunt type.. he wondered, how much did he know?

Ronny exhaled one last ball of smoke and watched it unfold; tendrils of vapor created a momentary screen between the informant and himself before being swept past the air conditioner's filed teeth.

The mafioso's eyes darted back and forth, following the swaying path of each dispersing tendril. Finally, waving a dismissive hand at the last strand of smoke, Ronny's eyes fell forward onto the awaiting informant. With the makeshift screen between them evaporated, Ronny appraised the welcoming Japanese man, and his eyes, seconds ago driven by an unrestrained curiosity, regarded Izaya with indifference. He pushed his pack of Native Americans further into his breast pocket and sighed, letting his face fall dejectedly into his open palm.

Cigarette still in hand, he stretched his arm out over the table as if to offer Izaya a taste.

"Do you have an ash tray?" Ronny asked and drew back his hand. "And in answer to your question, I think you have our roles confused, Mr. Orihara." The broad shouldered American leaned forward, letting his hands--the simmering cigarette still dangling from his fingertips--rest between his thighs.

"I am in your service," Ronny said, casually, and glided the cigarette clasping hand over to the leather bound tome. He tapped lightly on the book, scattering a few ashes on the cover. "Sorry."

He leaned back once again and titled his head inquisitively.

"I'm here because I'm curious to know why you called my name from the book," Ronny spoke, suddenly, in fluent Japanese.

Izayas' eyes narrowed for a moment. He was right, this man was going to be interesting. He smiled and placed an empty coffee mug close to the other on his desk. “Here, I am sorry but this is the best I can offer you~”
He thought about what the other said for a moment. “In my service you say? Well~ that's very kind of you, and you do speak Japanese~ that's wonderful.” He chuckled but was currently racing through ideas on what the other meant with his words.

He moved back to speaking in his first language. “So I was correct in thinking that you're here because of this book” His lips curved upwards slightly in interest. “But ahh~ I don't remember reading about you Mr Sukiart I'm afraid.” He reclines in his chair looking up at the other casually.

Was this man just guessing that he had read about people in the files..? It was pretty obvious if he knew what was in that briefcase. No.. this man wasn't in any of the files and he didn't say files...he said book. He felt a creepy feeling go down his spine as he realised that the other also had seemingly known he had read the book out loud. He was not the type to outwardly show such a concern.

He continued to look up at the other calmly before adding.“So tell me. What exactly lead you to believe I summoned you here?”

Ronny's stare flitted from the mug to the cigarette. He watched the cigarette’s choked flame flicker; somehow, climbing past boulders of ash that threatened avalanche, the flame reached out and licked the outer lip of the cigarette paper once more. Ronny watched the little flame’s desperate cling to life and licked his own lips, tasting what he wished was fire. With one inhale, he could become a god to this flame to spite the red eyed man in black before him, the man who would, through the natural order of storytelling, become the devil.

But, Ronny was a demon. He could give life like god, but he would not take responsibility for its consequences. Even if his patrons lived good lives, he wouldn’t answer their prayers. Good stories aren’t written about people who live good lives, and that was all that really mattered to Ronny--a story great enough to mask the void of eternity.

Besides, Ronny’s smoking was merely one of the many ways he dealt with the inherent boredom of human life. Today, however, the secretary was to reprise his former role, and with that, he had no reason to concern himself with needs of his human body.

After much pause, Ronny rubbed the cigarette’s flame out against the bottom of the mug, and lifting the cup to his face to study the waste at its bottom, he finally spoke.

“I have gone by many names in the past. One of those, which I believe is the name recorded in that book,” He lifted a finger from the clasped mug and pointed in the direction of the book, “was Faustus.”
“And it is not a belief. You called me, and I am here to answer,” Ronny, setting down the mug, smiled at the informant. “Oh well,” The demon’s shoulders shook as if he was laughing but no sound pursued. Instead, folding his arms across his chest, Ronny continued to answer to Izaya’s questions.

“Some call me by drawing circles in the dirt or conjuring up insane potions. They are usually the ones who call me out of simple curiosity, wondering if the invisible world of gods and demons in their bibles actually exists.” Ronny shrugged and then slowly raised his head to meet the other’s gaze. He let the seconds pass, staring at Izaya, until the silence between them was heavy enough to vouch for the truth in Ronny’s words. Then, again, he spoke.

“Sometimes,” He tilted his head to appraise the informant, “the person’s desire is strong enough to carry their call to me.”

“I heard your voice, your wish, and I am here to grant it. You may call it alchemy or witchcraft. Name me a demon if you like. I, personally, do not prefer the term.” While speaking, Ronny had picked up a pen from Izaya’s desk and was now spinning it between his fingers.

“You can toss away your pawns, Mr. Orihara. They are no longer necessary.”

Izayas' grin widened at the interesting explanation. “A demon immortal alchemist? Well I have not heard that one before Mr Sukiart~ I must say if anyone else but yourself said that to me I would suggest they try out Hollywood” He shrugged his arms out with a smile. “But~ I can tell when someone is lying to me and I must say~ You fully believe what your telling me is correct...”

Izaya walked closer to the other “Oh~ but you don't like the term demon.. It's true it's a term used by the biased and afraid. So 'Faustus', you say you are here to answer my calls? That the desire for power you say I have called you forth..well.. I must say I am not sure whether to applaud you or be slightly insulted”

Izaya felt an odd thrill at being so easily read by a complete stranger. This man...was not an average human. It was starting to become a little uneasy the amount of others who seemed to calculate what he was doing.. to better him at something.. no.. this was the mere encouragement he needed to improve.. keep above the general human race.

“Well Immortal.. you are saying you are the one that is responsible for all the others? I guess that sort of makes you a god in a way doesn't it?” He opens the briefcase up taking out the files. “You say I should throw away my pawns now? You speak as if I need them to survive.. they are merely a tool of my amusement kept their regardless of my need for them...they are just so much fun to watch~”

“So~ You have come to fulfil my desires~? Hm? I must say.. a human body can indeed be troublesome..”

It was a true fact that even a man like himself, still had a human body like anyone else no matter what way you looked at it, a fact made all to obvious by his trip not that far in the past to the hospital. That paranoia that death affects even the strongest person.

“A human reminded me not to long ago not to underestimate anyone...that any human ..including myself could do something unexpected.. tell me Immortal.. does anyone even do anything unexpected any more?”

He smiled and sat back down in his chair looking thoughtful. “Do people still carry the will to live once the fear of death is taken away?” He mused to himself out loud. “I don't know.. if an eternity is something that is incredibly appealing ...living on until one got tired of living and decided they wished to die” He laughed slightly.

“Ah~ I feel quite rude to call you here and deny your generous offer” He gives the other a closed eyed smile. “So.. I won't.. in a way~ I am quite interested in what you have to say Mr Sukiart.. but whether or not..or when I use what you have to tell me..well~ that remains to be seen doesn't it~?”

Izaya was still not completely sold on the idea of loosing control of his existence. He was already weighing up the pros and cons in his mind. Oh this was a fun game wasn't it~?

He laced his fingers and lent forward on his desk. He was not a person to carelessly agree to such a thing so simply. The life of an immortal.. was not as appealing as someone might imagine it to be. He looked up at the man in front of him, the others continuously casual face an irritating puzzle refusing to be read.

“So~ what are your terms then~ I would like to hear them...”