One Last Visit, One Last Word
Chapter One: Haibara's Mistake


Tarino: Its been some time since I ended the Angel Of Destiny series, and I not going to put any of that here.
This story was based of a fanpic about DC, drawn a year ago. Please forgive the awful writing! Then again, I should go by Stephen King's quote: Writers are usually the worst judge of their work. Again, if there are any improvements to be added, please feel free to review me, I would be more than happy to work on the draft of the story again.
This story...I have wrapped as a present for the 4th of July, for Shinichi. Happy Birthday!


She knew she should not go back on her word. Yet, it was so tempting, just to relive her fond memories again.

The little girl sat at the bus stop all alone that warm afternoon, waiting for it to arrive. She cupped a white rose in her hand, gently curling the petals backwards with her petite fingers, making the rose look fuller in bloom. He would be looking all over for her any second now, and would probably soon be dragged back home, a long lecture about remaining in hiding waiting for her.

The bus wheezed into the stop, and she got on, her feet shuffling against the plastic boarding that covered the floor. She dropped her fare into the box and made her way to the back of the bus, somewhere she thought she could hide in plain sight. Her hood was up, not so much that it allowed her to see, but enough to shade her from the strong sunlight and prying eyes. The bus was void of people anyways, with the exception of her and the driver, so her precaution was not really needed. Roads and towns flew by the window as she stared coldly out of it, her grey eyes empty of emotion.

The old bus huffed and puffed into the next couple of stops, but the people that got on almost always got off at the next stop. Not many boarded either. None of them noticed the child seated right at the back, hunched over a flower, cowering away from the eyes of strangers.

The bus finally reached her stop. She checked that her hood was up, slipped silently off the bus and continued along the greyish pavement. Her hand was shaky as it held the flower. She knew she was not supposed to be here, yet she was. It was almost as if she was running away from the law and was living as a fugitive.

Her thin lips curled up at that irony.

Her shuffling footsteps brought her to that flat, the one that her sister had rented. She looked up slightly, just to check the floor, then trudged on in.

The creaky stairs brought her up to that floor, and she strode quickly towards the door. She glanced furtively behond her, but there was no sign, or even a shadow of anyone behind her. She sighed quietly, and unlocked the door. It swung open on its hinges, letting her in. She stepped in tentatively, not wanting to disturb the state her late sister had left it in.

It was then she realised that the lights were on.

"No, it couldn't be!" she whispered, her face paling in shock. Her heart beat on traitourously in her chest, almost as if it was determined to announce her arrival. The shadows cast on the wall beside her moved, rose up to their menancing height, and advanced swiftlly towards her. She turned to run, bead of sweat flying off the sides of her head, and dashed for the door. She could hear their footsteps echoing down the corridor, the loud sound ringing in her ears. Just as she got there, it slammed shut in her face. Her head shot up and she saw an arm wrapped in black cloth holding it shut. Her breaths were more punctuated now, short hard puffs of air saturated with fear, and she was hoisted up by her collar. She wriggled about in midair, watching herself getting dragged back to the living room, thrown roughly on the couch. She felt a couple of bones flex as she took impact, the cracking sound letting a mild 'oof!' escape from her mouth. The shadows crowded in around her, evil things grinning at their prey. She scrambled up into a sitting position, and was just about to hop off the chair when two strong arms thrust her backwards and held her there. Wriggling this time would be of no use, for even if she did, one of the black cloth-wrapped arms had aimed the muzzle of a charcoal pistol at her forehead. Her pupils dilated till they were no more than dots at the end of a sentence, as she recognised her captors.

There were three of them here. One had a shower of long blond hair behind her, her icy lips twisted into a smirk. Another was grinning darkly at her as well, with a black hat perched in top of his head, shading his sunglasses. The one who was holding her had the worst expression of all; his long hair swept backwards, revealing a pair of glittering ebony dots set in his pointed face, and a devillish smile that dripped of poison. She knew who they were, and she regretted now; if only she had listened to Conan! She probably wouldn't be here then, walking right into a trap. She watched as the raven in front of her opened his mouth to speak.

"Welcome, Sherry," the venomous voice drawled.