Martini
a Meitantei Conan fanfic

Hattori Sei: ...Yea, if certain people were Organization members, there'd be trouble.

Hattori Heiji: Oi, what tha heck ya talkin' 'bout? And wha's with tha 'Hattori' Sei?

Sei: Nothing... Enjoy the prologue! /runs away/

Heiji: Get back here, ahou! Kora! /chases her/

Conan: /facepalm/ Hattori Sei does not own Meitantei Conan, that privelage belongs to Aoyama Gosho. Remember to review!


Prologue: Journey Into Madness


The journey back to Agasa's was spent in silence. Agasa was worried about Jodie, who had been shot, about Ran, who had been shot at, about Ai, who had faced an Organization member, and especially about Shin'ichi, who had been kidnapped by said Organization member. It was fortunate this 'Vermouth' hadn't killed the boy. Speaking of the shrunken detective, Agasa could see him out of the corner of his eye as he drove, Conan's eyebrows drawn and his eyes narrowed as Shin'ichi's brain whirred in thought.

Before long, they arrived at Agasa's house. As the professor himself shuffled out and up to the front door, Conan slid out and started making his way to the side of the house.

"Shin'ichi-kun?" Agasa called out to him, confused and concerned.

"Don't worry hakase. I...I just need to go home for a little while. I'll be by in the morning, okay?" He called back without stopping.

Agasa couldn't see the not-child's face, but he could picture it full of stress that didn't belong in one so yound, either his true or apparent age. His eyes softened. "Go ahead, I understand. I'll leave the side unlocked. Oyasumi."

"Arigato hakase. Oyasumi." As Agasa walked inside, Conan went to the wall separating numbers 221 and 223. For about a minute, he slid his hands along the surface as high as he could reach. Finally he found them, the small cluster of stones.

Even if he couldn't see the stones, or what was carved into them, he knew what they were. Twelve perfectly rounded stones numbered 0 to 9 with the other two marked with a * and #. Set up like the numerical pad on a computer keyboard, it was the entrance to one of the several secret passages built by his father.

Quickly, he typed in his personal code 9421 to open the stairs leading to the tunnel that would take him to his basement. Not wasting any time, he traveled the passage and went through his house, ending up in his bedroom

He lay on his bed, unneeded glasses off to the side, his custom handgun that had once been sized perfectly, now too large in his small hands. As he absentmindedly, mechanically, went through the process of cleaning and checking the gun, his mind went through the day's events.

First, the invitation. The name on the invitation had instantly set him off. Vermouth. After learning from Haibara that all the top members of the Organization were named after alcohols, he had memorized the names of all of them. And when he asked Haibara about this 'Vermouth', and learned about her disguise abilities, he knew instantly she must be the Dr. Araide. A plan in mind, he did his job.

But what had been revealed, and what had happened, hurt. FBI, hiding from him. Of course, it wasn't their fault they didn't know who he was. It wasn't their fault he had turned into a seven-year-old. It was Gin's fault. More than that, it was his fault. It was his fault Ran cried. It was his fault criminals got away. It was his fault Haibara hurt. It was his fault the kids were always in danger. It was his fault...

It was his fault the man on the floor was dead, laying in a pool of his own slowly spreading blood. That vision made Coan do a double take and he instantly thought to the events that had happened when his mind was lost in thought, his body on autopilot.

He had just finished loading the gun when a man came in through his door, a knife in hand. Instincts took over, but thanks to his environment, they were the instincts of his old body, of Kudou Shin'ichi. Thanks to that, even though he wwas aiming for the man's thigh, the recoil effected his body differently, his mind not adjusting to his size difference, making the shot go right into the man's chest.

"He. Hehe. Hahahahahaha!" Conan stood in his room, laughing his head off. He'd killed someone. And...nothing. There was no regret. And he could do it, even as a child. An idea formed in his now-fractured mind.

Too many criminals got away with their crimes, due to lack of hard physical they just continued to hurt innocents. As a child detective, working only through others, he couldn't save those innocents. But...he could save them another way. And nobody would suspect him, since he was a little kid. Today,things changed for those around the shrunken detective.