A Criminal's Fiasco
"None of you move if you don't want to be like this kid!"
Kaito's left eye twitched in mild annoyance as the masked, black-clad jewelry thief wrung a heavy arm tight around his neck, right hand burying a pistol hard against his temple.
It was silent. Utterly, stone cold silent as the vacuum of breaths of strangers all combined shocked through the air. Close to him, Nakamori stood – muscles tensed as he inched towards the man, shoes scraping silently across the marble floor. Then, sensing this flicker of motion, the mugger shot him a dark look and knead an arm around Kaito's neck, successfully earning a yelp from the young boy.
Nakamori immediately froze, just as a wild cry from across the room screamed, "STOP IT!"
Kaito, unable to move any of his muscles, darted his eyes towards the voice's owner. Aoko.
She stood amongst the crowd – pale face and outright horror earning her a few sympathetic glances from the other customers. Her father wasn't an exception, but his sympathetic gaze doubled, with a tang of guilt and a handful of rage, realizing – quite grudgingly too – that Kaitou Kid has become his new favorite jewel thief.
"Let the boy go," Nakamori rasped, a hint of desperation coloring his voice. The gunman tightened his grip on his neck, and Kaito shakes. The police force standing outside stands frozen because the gunman doesn't allow them to come close.
"Just—"
"Shut up about the stupid kid," the man pulls the boy back, "or I'll shoot!"
Discreetly, Kaito scanned the jewelry store with his eyes. The mugger had an accomplice. One. They're not professionals, but they're not stupid either. However, he could handle them. For now, he just needed to lay low in order to avoid further catastrophes. His eyes flickered to the small crowd accumulating at the corner, far from the crime scene.
Good. They should be safe there.
But he was well aware of the fact that there was a gun involved. And if desperate, what's stopping the criminals from firing a shot?
He can't have that. He wouldn't want to risk having anyone get caught in between the crossfire – not the bystanders, not the Inspector, not Aoko – so he'll have to play the role of a perfect hostage – obedient, scared and helpless.
"Move it," the mugger who had a hold on Kaito snarled as he edged his way to the exit. Kaito heard a soft whimper coming from Aoko's direction, and a silent stream of curses from the Inspector's.
The customers and staff all stared at him in concern, and the accomplice held the bag full of jewelry and money across his shoulders as he followed close behind his partner.
The police force gathered outside grudgingly made way for them, waiting, looking for an opening that never came. Pistol to his head, arm to his neck, the two muggers tossed Kaito to the back seat of a motor vehicle, and tightly bound his hands with a considerable amount of duct tape. On the front seat was a member that wasn't there during the heist. The getaway driver, Kaito noted. They planned this pretty well.
They slammed the door shut. All that Kaito managed to catch was a glimpse of Aoko – running outside, face wet and frantic with worry – before the getaway vehicle dashed forward.
"Man, that was eventful!" The mugger at Kaito's right sighed, loosening his hold on the pistol against my head, he noted. "Who would've thought that the Kaitou Kid's pursuer would be there?"
"Yeah, I didn't expect it when I came in either. Luckily, this kid was standing close!"
The driver cackled from his seat, voice gruff possibly from years of heavy smoking. "Well, we're lucky that he has little, if any, experience of dealing with hostages."
"Speaking of which," the man to Kaito's left sent him a grimace, "you're pretty close to the Inspector. Who are you to him?"
"H-he's my friend's dad!" Kaito peeped, underlining the youthfulness of his tone, the shaking fear. He felt, rather than saw his perpetrator's leer. Then, cold steel was once again pressed against his temple.
"When do we kill him?" asked the masked man to his left.
"When we switch vehicles," replied the one to his right – the one that held him still at the heist. "We shoot him, and burn his remains with the rest of the – ack!"
All of a sudden, the car sputtered and bumped. The driver hissed beneath his breath, before swerving to a nearby alley where it finally gave out – a flurry of black smoke emitting from the engine. The driver slammed a fist against the dashboard. "Shit! How the heck did this happen?"
At the back, the obviously helpless hostage slipped something that looked suspiciously like a small bomb at the sleeve of his top.
"Who knows? Maybe the car was already in a bad shape when we stole it," the one to the left said, shrugging. Suddenly he pulled out his mask, revealing a dark-skinned Japanese man with a wide nose and wild, bleached hair. "Looks like we just have to walk and blend in with the crowd."
The getaway driver and the other mugger sighed before removing their own masks.
Kaito watched them as they shrugged off their sweaters, memorizing their features. By the time that they were done, they looked like an everyday group of men that just came out for a drink. They stuffed their suitcases with the masks, clothes, jewelry and cash, before the attention finally zeroed in on the hostage.
"Inoue," the man who had been holding Kaito at the heist said, handing his partner a pistol. He was probably in his early thirties, and had small, squinty eyes and a bushy dark hair. The getaway driver was peeking from the alley, checking if anyone was around to witness the crime.
The man, whom Kaito now recognized as Inoue, snapped his head at him before allowing a wild, maniacal grin to slither into his face. "Sorry kid. You were such a good boy too," he drawled, grabbing the constrained young boy before throwing him against the wall. The wince was not an act because man did that hurt! It's difficult to act like you haven't already loosened up the duct tape minutes ago!
Inoue held the gun against Kaito's head. "I'll make this quick."
After that, a lot of things seemed to happen very fast. The smoke from the car seemed to burst throughout the alley, obscuring everything from view, before a short, spine tingling shot was fired.
"Inspector, what is going on here?"
Nakamori, who was busy hurling a stream of curses and orders across the shop turned to his heels and faced the young detective who just so happened to be passing by. Then, his face contorted into guilt, and then pain. Hakuba, being the perceptive chap that he is, was able to figure out what happened, more or less, by observing the people's concerned hums, the broken glass, the missing jewels, and the tire marks. There was a theft – that much was obvious. And a meticulously planned one at that. But the face Nakamori made…something else is at stake. Possibly a life.
So they took a hostage with them, he deduced. Then, lips thinning, he realized that the person most probably didn't stand a chance. The hostage has already served their purpose, which meant that they are now disposable.
The Inspector knew this. And Aoko, who was sobbing just outside the store where two women were attempting to calm her, seemed to also know just as much. Wait! Aoko?
Hakuba froze.
"Inspector, who did they take?" he asked quickly, snapping his head at the Inspector. Nakamori placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, eyes growing distant.
"They took Kaito-kun," he whispered, more a breath than anything. He glanced at Aoko, and back at Hakuba. "I'm helping the police track them down. It's the most that I could do for her now. Hakuba-kun, could you please…" he trailed off.
"Of course, Inspector," the detective said softly, before walking towards his classmate.
Aoko didn't look up when he came. She was looking down, lips quivering as she tried to wipe tears off her face. It speared through Hakuba's heart – seeing the free-spirited girl look so wrecked – he was almost tempted to state the reason that they shouldn't worry about Kuroba. However, he knew better than to point that out in such a situation. "Aoko-kun," he said instead.
Aoko's shoulders stopped shuddering for a second, and slowly, she stared up at him. The two women who were sitting by her whispered a few more comforting remarks before standing to take their leave. Hakuba waited for a few seconds before taking a seat next to her.
"Inspector told me about what happened," he whispered. He heard a sharp intake of breath and a cold, humorless chuckle.
"That Kaito really is an idiot," she sniveled, voice cracking and barely containing sobs. "He just had to be standing so close to them! If he wasn't always all over the place, maybe he'd still be—still be—"
"We don't know for sure how he's doing," Hakuba offered. Aoko paused, as if clinging desperately to his statement. Then, she clutched onto the hem of her skirt – knuckles turning white.
"B-but it's been a few hours, Hakuba-kun! A-and they had a pistol. And Kaito looked so scared. I've never—" she swallowed, "I've never seen Kaito look so scared and helpless before!"
The plaza was a buzz of chatter and cries. Police officers were scattered all over the place, interviewing the witnesses and asking about stolen items. Everything that was happening had been so clear to Hakuba. Had. Because now, for some odd reason, everything was starting to become one big blur as his mind seemed to focus solely on Kuroba. On the classmate he suspected to be more than the jokester he tries to appear to be.
"—they had a pistol," he remembered. It must've been glued to his head. If they decided to pull the trigger without giving him a chance to pull off his usual tricks, could he do anything about it? And "—Kaito looked so scared."
Damn it. Who the hell are these guys? Images of Spider suddenly started flashing through his mind. That night that he found Kid at the brink of death before he decided to slam some water into him; what could Kaito do if it were them?
For some odd reason, Hakuba's blood was beginning to run cold.
"This shouldn't be happening," Aoko blubbered, lips shaking violently while her eyes welled up. "I-I don't want Kaito to die!"
Smoke was only beginning to dissipate in the alley of the car wreck. The muggers were beginning to wonder where the smoke had come from, and why the alleged engine explosion didn't hurt or grow louder than a long, audible hiss. However, they decided not to question it, and instead, focus on the situation at hand. They stared at the ground,
Where Kuroba Kaito lay still, blood seeping through the two bullet holes on his head.
Inoue was only beginning to stand up since the smoke must've startled him to the ground.
"Well," the driver mumbled, turning to Inoue's partner, "guess we'd better go, Yamashita."
Yamashita's eyes thinned. He glanced one more time at the body before tuning on his heels to walk away – smoke turning his form into a mere silhouette. "Inoue, let's go!" he snarled.
"I'll follow," his partner replied amidst the smolder. "I'll just wipe off my fingerprints. I think I touched the kid's face when I fell forward!"
"Well then, just hurry up and – AAAH!" A clang and a bump. Then, silence. The getaway driver looked back at the two's general direction since the smoke obscured most of the scene. Only one shadow stood, and judging by the lanky features and wild hair, it must've been Inoue.
"Yamashita," he called out to his other colleague. "What the hell happened?"
There was no reply, and the driver was beginning to worry. Then he heard footsteps, and the silhouette of Inoue began to grow. He stopped just a few feet ahead of him – far enough to obscure the details of his body, but close enough to make him identifiable.
Suddenly, Inoue snickered, hazy figure gaiting forward amidst the dissipating smoke, and whirling back to Yamashita's direction in one swift motion. The driver raised his brows at the man.
"You're skipping, Inoue. You don't skip."
"Really, driver-san?" says Inoue in a tone injected with a certain amount of poise and cockiness. The driver could almost feel the smirk radiating off of him, and it was ultimately rattling and nerve-wrecking.
When did Inoue ever call him that? Heck, when did he ever have such a playful tone?
"The ground doesn't appreciate you glaring at it, you know?" says Inoue's voice right behind him – so close that he's sure he could hear him breathing.
The driver yelped, twirling around so fast that his legs almost gave out. Instinctively, he edged his elbows out, intent on slamming his ally. However, when he was already faced the other way, Inoue was standing about a meter from him, away from the smoke. It gave him a clear view of his face.
And Inoue was smirking, looking uncharacteristically suave.
This isn't him, he thought, face paling as he shakily pointed a gun at the man. How could it be?
"Ah, ah, ah," the impostor tauntingly wagged a dark-gloved finger at him. "You shouldn't waste such precious time threatening me with an empty metal."
Empty my ass! I checked this, he thought, pulling the trigger. Nothing happened. There was a moment of silence and panicking and paling on his part, in which the impostor somehow managed to get behind him. By the time that he realized this, it was already too late.
"Goodnight!" A smooth voice all-too-familiar to a jewel thief such as the driver says. Then, he heard the hiss of a spray, and he was suddenly feeling very, very sleepy.
"Y-you are..." he managed to squeeze out before he felt his entire body fall forward. Something grabbed his shoulder before his head could collide with the concrete. This, he realized given his drooping brain. He also heard, just before he slipped into full unconsciousness, the voice continue his statement.
"...A phantom thief who just so happens to be passing by."
A few minutes later, a cry shot through the alley.
Aoko Nakamori, pale in the face, all but fainted at the sight of red liquid streaked against the concrete, and the blatant pistol sitting right beside it. Hakuba, on the other hand, had comically slapped a hand against his face.
"Aoko!" Inspector Nakamori bellowed, rounding the corner with a sharp screech of his heels, preparing for the worst given his daughter's hysterical scream. However, what greeted him was far from what he was expecting.
Lined up perpendicular to the alley walls were three snoring men. The dark-skinned, wild-haired one was drooling through his chin, which for some reason had a bit of face putty and silicone on it. Dignity had been literally stripped out of him as he lay there, in all his polka-dotted boxers glory.
Beside him was a man with dark, bushy hair. He wasn't stripped naked, but his hair did have a colorful assortment of accessories. And he was rolled up in duct tape.
The last one had his face turned into a doodle book. His entire body has been stained pink. A pretty shade, actually. Perfect for those who want to start some kind of pretty princess dress business.
"The hell?" he muttered, listening to the bustle of the police force's stop to a halt behind him.
"Kaito! Kaito!" Aoko's hysterics sliced through the air like a knife.
This snapped Nakamori out of his daze. He glanced at what Aoko had been looking at when he came, and instantly felt his chest freeze.
It was a pool of blood.
"Inspector!" Though numb and possibly a little horrified, Nakamori still managed to catch the urgency in the police officer's tone. He glanced at where he was pointing. At the getaway vehicle.
Where a flash of dark hair was peeping out from the back seat.
Before he could have the nerve to check it out himself, Aoko had already dashed towards it. He saw her slam the door open – watched her poke a head in, watched her shoulders freeze, and watched her reach out a hand to shake the boy whom he now knew was Kaito.
"It's tomato juice," he heard a mumble come from behind him. Nakamori turned around and found himself staring down at Hakuba, who was crouching down to observe the red liquid.
"What?"
"It's tomato juice, Inspector. The consistency is too thick to be blood." He inched his face towards the alleged juice and made a wafting motion with his hands. "Smells like it too."
When the young detective stood up, there was a strange glimmer in his eye and a very subtle tint of a smile. Amusement? Relief? Whatever it was, it was an expression that screamed that there was more to this case, and the blasted detective wasn't going to spill the beans.
"Dad!" Aoko wailed.
Immediately, he turned to the police officers. "Where's the medical team?" he yelled.
"They're on their way, sir!" an officer replied.
Nakamori glanced one more time at Hakuba, who was eyeing the three strange men in wary, before rushing over to his daughter.
"How is he?" he asked as he shuffled into the car, tone soothing contrary to the urgent tone he'd been using all day.
"I don't know," she whimpered, shaking Kaito a bit though his dark head merely lolled. "H-he's not waking up!"
That's when Nakamori finally got to really see the boy. His hands had been bound to his back, but he didn't look as bad as he'd been expecting. There weren't any grave injuries visible on the outside, or bruises which pointed to fatality inside. Still, the possibility of poisoning still stood there, although he highly doubted that given the muggers' violence and hold on guns.
Nevertheless, he placed two fingers on Kaito's neck to check for a pulse. It throbbed steadily beneath his skin.
Dark eyes calmed and darted slowly to Aoko, who had frozen in her place to see how he was in desperate anticipation. He nodded, and her her eyes creased as her lips lifted into a smile – large within her small face.
She slammed the sleeves of her top into her eyes to wipe off traces of the waterworks. "Thank goodness," she sobbed, fiddling with Kaito's thick hair.
"The medical team is here!" Someone shouted from across the alley.
All of a sudden, the entire place was one big bustle. Nakamori helped the police force stop the accumulating crowd while the medics hurried to where Kaito was – stretchers, oxygen masks and all sorts of advanced medical equipment clambering in their wake.
Hakuba watched the scene – watched the urgency of the medical team who were expecting the worst, the concerned murmurs of the civilian crowd, the sirens, the curses, the orders.
Then he glanced at the three pitiful-looking men, whom he was certain were the muggers, and wondered why he even worried in the first place.
He heard a soft, bated voice from inside the car. "Kaito."
Cocking a brow, he walked over to Aoko. Kaito was 'just beginning to wake up,' it appears. He allowed his eyes to dart around before focusing on his childhood friend. "Aoko," he said.
The girl was suddenly frantic, hopping around him, sniveling, mocking and sniffing but not daring to hit him for fear of aggravating any injury which he most definitely did not have.
"Ow ow ow, my head hurts," Kaito suddenly strained, allowing his head to fall back to the leather seat. Aoko's eyes went wide.
"W-what? Are you –"
"He'll be okay," Hakuba said, knowing perfectly well that Aoko will be overprotective of her childhood friend for a little while. He glared at Kaito. Kaito ignored him and turned to Aoko.
"Yeah, don't worry about it, Aoko," he smiled.
Aoko didn't buy it. She jumped off the seat and ran to the medics, telling them to hurry, and giving a heads up on his situation.
That gave Hakuba and Kaito a few seconds alone.
"Your head doesn't really hurt, does it?" the detective started, knowing perfectly well that Kaito had no plans of speaking with him.
Kaito's head snapped up, and he feigned hurt. "Why would I lie about that?"
"To feign concussion," he replied curtly. Kaito grimaced. "You're pretending to have a concussion so you won't look like you're the one who easily dealt with the criminals. Otherwise, people will know about your potentials."
"Hakuba, you are insane," Kaito said simply. "If I had the potential to easily deal with them, then wouldn't I be flaunting it? You know what I'm like."
Hakuba smirked, giving Kaito a knowing look. "You're already flaunting it, aren't you?"
Kaito's smile faltered as the detective's statement hung in the air. Then, the medics arrived.
"Kaito-kun, right?"
"Ah, yes,"
Hakuba scoffed and walked over to Aoko, who was standing right next to the medic. They unbound his hands before doing some tests on him, asking a few questions and checking around his head and muscles.
The rest of the day had been eventful. After Kaito was asked to rest, the young magician confirmed that the three men were the jewel thieves . He was swaddled in blankets, a warm cup of hot chocolate on his right hand at the back of an ambulance when Aoko carefully asked him about who the three men were. They requested her to do it, you see, for fear of triggering some kind of trauma from the event. However, easily seeing through their tactics, he faced the police detectives themselves and calmly confirmed their identities. He also claimed that he didn't know how they ended up like that.
"Last time I checked," he drawled, staring at the Inspector while the three stood cuffed in the police car, "They were going to shoot me in the head. After that, the car exploded, I think, and I woke up to Aoko touching me all over my face."
Aoko visibly flushed. "I was checking to see if you were still alive, jerk! Don't make it sound so weird!"
The Inspector stared at the two, his face odd, before directing his attention back to the three criminals sitting pale-faced in the police car. "Mind telling me how you ended up like this?
Yamashita and Inoue shook their heads, brains still trying to process the events – and failing. The driver, on the other hand, had frozen in his place.
Hakuba, standing by a store, watched the criminals with a slight wince in his face. He's glad that they're paying for their crimes, really. However, more than anything, he worried about their sanity and mentality.
Because after all, Kaitou Kid is an enigma – a mischievous shadow that has an entire Task Force wrapped around his pinky.
And they underestimated him.
Author's note:
Hi! Yannami definitely owns Magic Kaito. In fact, she was Gosho Aoyama's original identity before Gin decided to hit her with a hammer, and feed her a magical drug that eventually turned her into a male Japanese animator. Who also made DC. Which, by the way, also belongs to her.
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PS. Okay, I got scared. I hope you guys realize that the note written above was a joke. It wasn't a hammer. It was a wrench.
And I don't own MK or DC.