Good day,
thank you very much for reading my fan fiction. This story is about my OC character whom I am using in the "shining Justice RP:Detective Conan" RPG. She is a young girl who was forced to join the Black Organization. Several facts and events were changed to fit my story.
Hopefully you will enjoy reading.
Warning! It contains violence, drugs and torture, but no pairings.
Disclaimer: I do not own the series 'Detective Conan' nor its characters except of my OC character.
Prologue
There had been a time where I still had a family like other children. I had grown up in a with no siblings, a kind father and a beautiful mother. Pretty clothes, delicious food, servants and maids, living in a palace-like building, which had been always filled by the self-composed songs of my parents, all those were average, everyday things for me, my norm. I had lived in a dream of being a princess. There had been nothing I could wish for as I already had possessed everything a child could get. All of my wishes I had said had been fulfilled at once. Spoiled by my parents, I had clung to them, not wanting them to leave me like they usually were forced to because of their work. I wished that my father would always play the piano and my mother her violin, staying always and forever besides me. One day, I would become a professional singer, taking the role as the vocal for my parents' songs and making them proud. Cheerful laughter, childish dreams, warm embraces, extravagant living: I had never known what kind of luxury I had before I had lost them, everything in that incident.
The bright, happy colours I had grown accustomed to seeing were suddenly shrouded in thick, unforgiving black. The gentle, comforting warmth of my days I had felt and taken for granted became soiled with the cold, unforgettable colour of red… the crimson of my parents' blood. Sitting on the ground with wide, terrified eyes, I could only watch in horror. The shock and terror coursing through my veins paralyzed me where I was, numb to the silent tears flowing down my cheeks. I could only stare at the door, the door that had swung open before the shots had begun firing, and the several men in black. A spoiled girl like me could not even understand what they were talking about, because it was in a strange language that I could not understand – neither German or English. That did not matter though as the rapidly cooling corpse of my parents were still around me. My mother's arm was still wrapped around me protectively, even in death, from when she used herself as a shield to save me. Father was only a few feet away, crumpled to the ground with a forgotten pistol in his hands. Their eyes were still open, glassy, and if they were alive, would have been filled with worry and fear for me. Although the other agents did most of the firing, none of their bullets hit them. My father had tried to shoot back, to protect us, to at least hurt them like they hurt us, but it ended too quickly. It had only taken two shots. Two clean shot, a bullet in the brain each, right between the eyes.
They spoke again in cold, detached tones in the same strange language. I would come to realize it was Japanese when it was too late.
"Nothing less than expected from Aniki*. You always hit your target." One of the men stated, admiration and with a tone that stated he knew the outcome of the shoot.
Gin resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "Don't say such boring things." His eyes turned sharp, "Clean up everything." His cold voice cut through his subordinates, instilling fear in them at the hidden threat. They knew the drill, but Gin did not trust that they would do their job right.
One man nodded while another stated, "Oi, Gin, there's still one left."
Gin swept his careless gaze to the pitiful sight of a girl huddled against the wall with her knees to her chest. The dead woman, who Gin guessed was her mother, still had an arm around her as if to protect her when she could not protect herself. He noted the glassy eyes, the trembling, and knew right off the bat she would not be an issue but could not care less. "She's just a gal. Leave her alone and we'll blow her up with the place. Just look at her. She can't even breathe, let alone move."
Another man who spotted her growled and retorted maliciously, "Not a chance in hell! That little bitch's parents screwed with us and killed the guy that owes me money. No, I think I'm gonna enjoy makin her want to die."
Gin did not even glance in his direction, his trench coat sweeping the ground ominously with billowing silver hair was he walked out the front door, "Do as you wish. I don't care. Vodka, we're leaving."
Vodka nodded, "Got it, Aniki." As a warning, he turned back to the men they had brought as the clean up crew and pulled out his gun casually, "Make sure you clean up good and blow this building." He enjoyed the fear flitted across their features from the no-so-subtle threat before following his partner out into the dark cold night.
The heavy footfalls of boots and the almost light tapping sound of dress shoes was enough to bring back to reality, especially when they drew closer… too close. A repulsively sweet voice filled with false warmth and comfort said something in the same foreign language.
I did not understand this time either, but just the way they looked at me with barely concealed pity and sickening delight, it was not going to be good. Just glancing at the bodies of my parents was enough to tell me that, despite my young age of six, I was going to die and they could not protect me again. I was going to die like me parents, or worse, and I did not know why!
Why did they hurt my parents? Why did they come here? Are they going to kill me too? Those were the questions running through my mind, too fast to understand at some points.
I don't want to die…
I don't want to die…
I don't want to die!
Suddenly, all I could see was the gun my father used to protect my mother and me. It was a sleek black metal still cradled in my father's hand… the last chance he had at protecting his family. A 'click' sound drew my attention back barely so I could hear the familiar voice spoken to me.
"If you wanna blame someone," the man said in English, "then blame your nosey parents for working with the FBI and snooping into stuff that they should've stayed out of. Then maybe they would've lived."
I could almost hear the trigger pulling and suddenly, it was like a veil covered my eyes, a haze filled with raw, primal, desperate urge to live. A shot rang out in the room followed by screaming and yelling. Blood pouring from the bullet and pooled onto the floor, creating a crimson puddle, not unlike my parents. However, I did not feel any pain. I was not the one shot, the bleeding one, the one screaming in agony and fury. It was one of the five men that were about to torture me to death, I was sure, because he was staring right at me with pure anger clouded by pain. I glanced down and felt more than saw my fingers wrapped around cool metal of my father's gun, pressing into my palm and held close to my body as if it were a life line. My stuttering heart could barely keep up with all the events.
When did I grab it? Did I aim it at him? Was I the one to pull the trigger?
I did not know.
However, the expressions on the other men, besides their shock and slight horror, were confusion much like my own. Apparently they did not know what happened either. Horror overtook me when I realized exactly what I had done… I had shot a man.
The man that was shot, the one that had a cruel smile on his lips, finally dropped to the ground from pain, clutching his stomach would to stop the bleeding. He was already coughing up blood, staining his teeth an eerie red, and splattered on my face. It trickled down the side of my face slowly, dripping onto my white dress. I could not tell if my arms were trembling fear, anxiety, horror, disgust, or the recoil from when firing the gun. It did not matter through, because when the man fell, it was like shattering an illusion where the shock was finally overcome.
The other men started to curse in the same language as earlier, the one I did not understand, and they all looked angry and shocked. The men that had supposedly left earlier had come back, probably from hearing the gunshots and making sure that I was dead, stood and stared at me. The short one with sunglasses had taken a few steps back in surprise, but it was the other one I had come to fear. His cold and intelligent eyes stared me down, studying me like I was some science experiment and yet were still casual enough to have one hand in his pocket while he smoked a cigarette. The open door let a chilly wind into a room, but I was not sure if I shivered from that or his terrifying gaze. However, right now, when I did not know how I would come to fear him, I only felt hatred and anger. A scream escaped my lips before I pulled the trigger again, loathing and desperation fuelling my actions. Before they could react, the other agents that had surrounded me had fallen, surprise written on all their faces as they clutched their mortal wounds in vain. Once they fell, my shot was clear. I could see him, standing in – not confidence, not self-assurance, not even arrogance – a way that sent warning bells through someone's head. Like he knew what was going to happen and that there was nothing anyone could do about it. It was convincing and deadly, enough to make a person give up before trying.
I did not give up though because my mind was hazy from the need to kill that man, to take his life as he took my parents' lives. A raw, animalistic part of me let out a furious roar, the overwhelming want almost unbearable. Unfortunately, when I pulled the trigger again… nothing happened. No bullets pierced his body and no screams of pain were heard.
It was over.
I lowered the gun before it clattered to the ground harmlessly, my trembling becoming so bad that I could not even keep still. I did not know if it was from the cold, the adrenaline, the shock, the fear, or the realization that I had killed people, but suspected it was a mix of all of the above. There was nothing left. I could only brace myself for the inevitable, to be killed the same way as my parents. I could feel more than see the man's shadow overcome my small form, his cold gaze freezing me to the point where my trembling almost ceased. Tears of raw fear and frustration prickled at my eyes.
It was pathetic. I still wanted to struggle, to live, to have revenge. I could not accept my fate yet, my spirit would not allow it.
"You." The man stated lowly, the deadly calm in his voice enough to make me shiver. It was in English, but I did not know if that brought comfort or indignation, "You have talent."
My eyes widened in shock and in confusion, overcoming the paralyzing fear for a moment. I looked up slowly, the sinister smirk on his face enough to make me want to flinch and hide.
"I wouldn't have thought that a little girl like you could kill my subordinates so easily. They were incompetent, yes, but you make quick work of them." He stated with slight interest, a dark smile making its way onto his lips, "If you're tamed properly, you could be of good use to us. You're coming with us, girl."
Then he brought out his gun, touching the cold barrel to my forehead, and forced me to rise from my sitting position. I was short, only coming up to his waist at best, but I could still see his steely eyes penetrating me. I do not know what happened, whether it was exhaustion from the day events or the anxiety that threatened to burst from my chest, but my eyes grew heavy and all went dark… black.
I opened my eyes blearily, my eyelids still heavy and begging for sleep. I did not know what time it was, let alone the day, but it felt like I had slept for a while. My joints hurt and I felt sore all over. That was when I noticed I was lying on something uncomfortable, cold, which would never have happened when I was home. My parents would not… allow… it… My throat closed up and my eyes stung with burning tears when I remembered what had happened. My parents were killed… murdered in cold blood right in front of me. I tried to get up as I stifled a sob but was stopped abruptly with a sharp tug on my neck. I panicked for a moment and felt around my neck with my hands, which were still shaking horribly, and felt some sort of… collar attached to a chain. It must have been linked to the wall. Finally looking around, I realized that I was not in the mansion anymore, my childhood home. It was dim, cold, and empty in the room, the walls made of unforgiving metal that I felt like they were closing in on me, trying to suffocate me and imprison me. I moved around a bit to judge how far I could move with the collar and came to a sickening realization that my hands and feet were chained and shacked together, limiting my movement even more. It was unbearable, the feeling of being trapped like a lamb in a lion's den, where there was no escape.
The door suddenly swung opened and made harsh contact with the wall, the loud, echoing sound of metal against the metal ringing in my ears as my heart thudded against my chest. The man with long, silver hair and cold jade eyes entered the room. Though my memory was still fuzzy, I remembered he wore a black hat, black coat, white turtleneck sweater, and black shoes and he wore the same at the moment. The moment his eyes met my terrified ones, my body froze, seeing my parents shot down by that man so carelessly flashing through my mind. Instantly, rage and hatred rushed through me, flushing away my fear for the moment. The only thing I desired at the moment most, as I stared the man down with my own angry eyes, was to see him stone cold dead.
Apparently, my defiance did not sit well with him as he lunged forward with the grace and deadliness of a black panther, and wrapped his long freezing fingers around my neck. My back made harsh contact with the wall and ripped a pained scream from my lips.
"That's not how you should look at your superior, or at least someone that can kill you." He coolly said in English. "I don't nor do I want to know what fantasy you're trying to hide in, but you should accept your own fate, it'll be a little less painful. From now on, you belong to me and will listen to only me. Am I clear?"
His grip tightened around my neck, wrenching another agonized gasp from my lips as I gasped for air, but I still said nothing. I kept my eyes narrowed with cold fury and hatred, taking some satisfaction when he seemed to lose his temper for a moment. He threw me to the ground harshly with a disgusted snarl on his lips.
"I'll have plenty of time to educate you when we've arrived in Japan," he announced. Suddenly an impassive but almost smug smirk tugged on his lips as he added, "Prepare yourself and say goodbye to your old life while you have time. What comes next is completely different and if you haven't give up your little attitude then… you won't survive.."
I heard his footsteps echo until they were ended by the door slamming shut. Even after I could not hear him anymore, I did not move.
My situation finally sunk in and I cried. I cried for my parents who I would never see again, I cried for the life that was taken from me, and I just cried from the loss of everything I held dear. I felt hopeless for I was in the hands of my parents' murderer and wondered if it would have been better if I died with them I would not have to endure this horror, this nightmare come real and I could have been probably been with them.
Most of, I would not have had to experience everything that was going to happen to me.
Notes:
*Aniki = here: Japanese for "bro"
Thank you very much for beta-reading my story, JapaneseAnimeFreak16.
