Tied Up, Part 1

Namie felt stiff; unbelievably stiff. Also groggy. God, what did she drink last night? She wasn’t supposed to drink. She knew she wasn’t supposed to drink. Who the hell tricked her into drinking?

Her butt was sore, too. The hair on her arms stood upright and she shivered awake. Whose bed was this? Was she even lying down? It didn’t seem like it. Actually, it felt rather like she was sitting on the floor. How could she be sitting when she couldn’t even lift her head? This was all so confusing…

Namie groaned loudly- a terrible mistake. Nausea leapt into her throat like a tiny child on a carousel. Fortunately there was nothing in her stomach and so she was spared the embarrassment of vomiting. Some huge person was hugging her. She could tell because there was an unbearable tightness around her biceps and below her breasts. It was so constraining she found that she couldn’t even move her shoulders. Namie struggled weakly, but all she succeeded in doing was tiring herself out. She was aware of her body collapsing against the wall behind her.

The wall bent back and she nearly lost her balance. Namie gasped, instinctively kicking with her legs to stay upright. Actually, that didn’t feel like a wall in the least bit- it was too…bumpy? Almost like a bone or something…

“Hey…are you awake?”

Namie’s stomach dropped. The voice that addressed her was tired and pain-clenched, but too familiar to disregard. Without a doubt, she was speaking with Izaya Orihara.

“Izaya?” She croaked, peeling an eye open. Oh god, too much light.

Namie grunted and bowed her head, mentally fighting off the stabbing sensations in her eyeballs.

“Yeah. Are you alright?”

“I…I don’t know…”

She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to go back to sleep forever.

Eventually the burning beneath her lids forced her to screw her eyes back open. As her head was still dipped, she had a perfect view of the thick rope drawn across her body. It was crushing the top of her ribcage and restricting all movement across her torso, but that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that the rope disappeared behind her…where Izaya’s voice was coming from.

“Izaya, what the hell?” She demanded, tears stinging her already abused optic nerves, “What is this? Where are we?”

Izaya sighed and then instantly regretted it. She heard him wheeze in pain, gritting his teeth as he replied:

“Y-you don’t remember a thing, do you?”

What was there to remember? Namie thought frantically. It had been a totally normal day. She’d been at the office, flipping through files and sorting them on the shelf. Izaya was sharpening his switchblade at his desk. He’d had his feet up. She remembered the squeaks his chair made when he adjusted his balance.

Namie concentrated. There’d been a buzz at the door. Izaya ordered her to get it, so she’d put away her work and come downstairs. She opened the door…but then…

Dammit, she couldn’t remember! No, that wasn’t true- there was something. Something rough, heavy, seizing her around the waist. She’d tried to scream- her mouth was covered. There was an impact- her head against the wall. A flash of something in the background- a knife? And then her whole vision was covered in something white and vaguely soft…and then nothing.

Izaya chuckled; it sounded like a sob.

“They got to you first, obviously.” He explained, craning his neck in an effort to stave off the pain. Namie felt the base of his skull graze her scalp. His neck was damp and it was wetting her hair.

“Pretty sure it was chloroform. Didn’t really matter which chemical it was, I didn’t give them the chance to use it again. You were out like a light, though. I almost thought they’d killed you.”

Namie would have snorted in disbelief that he noticed, but she was too busy being terrified.

“Who?” She cried, thrashing against her bindings, “Why? What’s going on?”

“Namie-“ Izaya panted, shuddering in agony with a tight groan. “N-Namie, please stop the hysterics. I-“ another shallow breath, “I think I’ve got a few broken ribs here.”

The severity in his voice brought some reason to her senses. She turned her head, trying to get a glimpse of him. What little she could see wasn’t good; Izaya’s shoulders were sagging and his hair was matted flat. His skin was freckled with a mixture of blood and dirt.

“So they broke into the apartment-“

“You let them in, actually.”

“Under your directions!”

Izaya was in too much pain to argue further. Namie proceeded:

“They broke in, drugged me, beat the shit out of you, then dragged us here and tied us up?”

“Yep, sounds about right.”

“Why?”

That was the one piece she couldn’t get around. Sure, Izaya had enough enemies to form their own country, but he hadn’t pissed anyone off lately. He’d been under the radar, underground, taking a break, laying off etc etc. Even Shizuo Heiwajima had been spared his antics these past couple of weeks. And whoever pulled this off was skilled to say the least- Izaya wasn’t an easy target to take down.

“Well-“ Izaya coughed, “-there may have been some, er, dealings I’ve had that I, uh, didn’t tell you about.”

“Dealings?”

“Yeah, drug stuff. You know. Apparently, some of the intel I gave them…might not have been accurate.”

“You lied to a drug cartel!?”

“Maybe!”

Namie growled in frustration and threw her head back, smacking Izaya squarely between the shoulder blades. He cried out pathetically, but Namie was too busy yelling to care:

“You asshole! If you’re going to get killed for being an idiot, why did you have to take me down with you? I have nothing to do with any of this!”

“Namie-!” Izaya hissed, eyes wrenched shut.

Namie hit him again, punctuating each blow with another word:

“You. Stupid. Fucking. Bastard. I. Won’t. Die. For. You!”

She wasn’t entirely sure Izaya was still breathing by the time her tantrum had ended. He appeared unresponsive, aside from the occasional moan. Namie wiggled in her bonds and tried to get a better look at his condition, but she just couldn’t manage it. She could hardly even feel her hands.

She turned to face front. Where was she, anyway? The room was smothered in darkness except for one bright lamp hanging directly above the two captives. It was like one of those horribly clichéd FBI interrogation rooms, only with no table. The ground was cement, and Namie observed a bug skittering over her ankle in disgust. For some reason, her kidnappers allowed her to retain her shoes.

“…Izaya?” She prodded the informant with her cheek.

No response. Had she killed him? Or was the pain so intense he finally passed out? Namie bit her lip. What did they do to him? Dammit, if only she could remember…! It wouldn’t do any good, though; Izaya saw the whole thing himself… she was down before he even knew he was under attack. Some aid.

Namie scoffed at her own line of thinking. Forget Izaya, she was clearly the victim here. She didn’t owe him a damn thing; she hardly even knew him. So what if he’d been pummeled to death and she couldn’t save him? Why should she care? The bastard deserved every ounce of pain and then some!

But…seeing him now, pale and motionless, blood soaking his torn shirt…it wasn’t what she wanted.

An ear splitting creak startled Namie and jolted Izaya awake. It sounded like a very rusty gate had just swung open. And then, it swung shut with a reverberating slam. One pair of footsteps was now approaching the two captives frighteningly slowly. Namie’s entire body went rigid and she unconsciously pressed against Izaya’s back. She bit her lip and willed her tears to vanish.

The stranger stepped into the shade of light. The angle made it very hard to distinguish his features- Namie had to squint simply to identify his clothes. She figured Izaya’s eyesight was probably worse off than her own, so she made an effort, but no luck. She didn’t recognize him.

“How fortunate I am,” the man said almost cheerfully, “of all the people in Tokyo that want you dead, I’m the one who gets there first.”

“Evening, Mister Isogi,” Izaya greeted with a fraction of his usual disdain.

Namie was impressed at how unaffected he could make his voice sound when he needed to. She wouldn’t have believed he was incapacitated moments ago. Then again, someone in Izaya’s position probably required that trait.  

“You screwed up, Orihara.”

“Aw,” Izaya mocked disappointment, “and I’d so wanted to impress you.”

Isogi paused. Namie didn’t know what to do with herself- should she stare at their oppressor? Beg for mercy? Was Izaya cueing her?

“You know, you put up quite a fight back there. I was starting to think we couldn’t take you.”

“Yes, well,” Izaya laughed and then shuddered, “as I’ve said before, there’s a good reason I can go toe-to-toe with Shizu-chan.”

“Not good enough, it seems.”

Why was he stalling? Namie felt a nasty panic bubbling in her chest. Whatever Isogi was about to do, it was bad. And it involved her.

“What are you going to do to us?” Namie blurted out, unable to contain herself.

She felt Izaya flinch behind her, clearly not anticipating her sudden demand. Isogi eyed her but she didn’t back down.

“I’m not sure yet,” Isogi admitted, “I want to kill Orihara in the most painful way possible, but the plan changed when we discovered he’d hired a female partner.”

Namie stayed silent.

Isogi continued, “One thing’s for sure, though. I want him to suffer. So I think I’ll leave the two of you alone in here for a while and see where that goes.”

“That’s it?” Namie questioned, smiling incredulously, “You just want to watch us sit here?”

“For now, yes.”

And that was apparently the end of the conversation. Isogi stepped into the darkness and all that was left to hear were his retreating footsteps. Then there was the screech of the rusty gate and its sigh of a closing.

“Listen carefully, Namie,” Izaya whispered suddenly. Namie leaned into him. “This is a warehouse on Daikoku wharf. There is one exit at the front of the room. If we work together, we can reach it.”

“Are you sure about that?” Namie asked quietly, “he probably expects us to escape, and your condition-“

“I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

Namie frowned.

“What?” She blurted at normal volume.

“You didn’t actually believe Isogi when he said he’d leave us alone, did you?”

At first Namie remained as confused as earlier. But then, slowly but surely, she heard it. A host of terrible clicking noises… squeaks and chatters and gnashing of sharp teeth.

“Oh, god…” She whimpered, shrinking against Izaya.

“I told you this was a wharf.”

Namie shut her eyes. If she couldn’t see them, they weren’t there. It didn’t matter though because she could hear them everywhere. Big, hairy, iridescent-eyed ship rats. She was going to be eaten alive by carnivorous rodents.

“Just stay calm,” Izaya instructed her, drawing his knees closer to his chest, “They won’t attack you unless you panic.”

“Panic?” Namie swallowed, water obscuring her vision, “I’m not panicking!”

“You just stay as serene and tranquil as a butterfly, OK?”

“OK!” Namie nodded fervently, sinking her incisors into her bottom lip.

“Good girl,” Izaya coaxed, though his voice was far from soft. He sounded like a commander evaluating his next move in a battle. “You’re going to be fine.”

Izaya extended his right foot into the darkness and put it down. Cement. Exerting a minimum amount of force, he dragged his body and Namie’s towards the foot. They moved four centimeters forward.

“Namie, I’m going to need your help.”

The rats were getting closer and rowdier. Izaya saw a pink tail dart into the cone of light and then out again.

“Hm?”

Izaya rolled his eyes. Kanto’s boldest scientist had to pick this moment to develop musophobia?

“I’m moving us towards the door. When you feel me slide across the floor, kick off in the opposite of whatever direction I move, alright?”

“But what about the ropes?”

The informant huffed in irritation.

“I’ll get to that part eventually.”