Hey everyone, I'm back with more (and only a month's passed!). I never really expected this story to get so much attention, but I'm completely blown away. As a writer, seeing that hardly a day passes where at least someone doesn't look at this story is amazing! Thank you all so much for the views, reviews, alerts, and favorites, everyone!


The two boys had walked in an uncomfortable silence until their surroundings began to blur with those of the town before them. During that time, however, Conan couldn't help but continue to feel uneasy about their peculiar saviors. Yes, the two had saved them from freezing to death or succumbing to injuries, but there was something about their mannerisms, especially the older man's, that made him instinctively put up his guard. When he noticed he and Kid were even in fresh clothes (that he seriously doubted Kid had brought along, having already been through the thief's pockets), it was all he could do to constrain himself to just shoot the thief a look, which the thief had the decency to look away from. Yeah, nothing was weird with those two. Clearly.

His only small relief came when he found the photograph and letter in his new pockets; however, look as he might, he couldn't find the stolen jewel. Either Kid had reclaimed it while the detective was asleep, or that was what Daichi had meant when he'd said they didn't need to repay him. With a slight growl, Conan shoved a hand into his unoccupied pocket, flinching slightly at the sound of paper crinkling. Pulling his hand out, he found a scrap of paper with rough handwriting scrawled over it.

"Sorry for changing your clothes without permission… they were just so torn up, and I didn't want you two to catch anything… Kai-san has a small bag of food in one of his inner pockets… you two looked pretty starved… I think I returned everything…"

Based on how it was written, it looked like Matsunaga was the note's author. That was… better… he guessed. At least the younger of the two strange males seemed honest… It still didn't make the situation good… but it was still better than if Daichi had done it. And at least now they had something to eat. For that, he was grateful (though he probably would still check for poison).

After hearing his companion's stomach give a low growl, Conan said, "Matsunaga-san gave us some food. If you want to take a break and eat, we can." The thief's attention was immediately drawn to him at the mention of food. When the detective noticed Kid's expectant gaze, he slightly laughed at the thief's childlike expression. "He gave it to you."

Instantly his companion's hands started searching through his pockets, face lighting up in triumph as he pulled out a small loaf of bread. "Finally!" He quickly tore the loaf in half and offered one of the halves to the diminutive detective. The thief glanced over his half of the loaf for a brief moment before deciding it was safe and tearing into it with gusto. It was different than what Conan had expected from his rival, but, then again, it had been a while since they'd last had anything to eat. The diminutive detective checked his half of the loaf and ripped off small pieces to eat. It tasted pretty good, though that could have been because he hadn't had any food in a while. Once they'd finished with the loaf, Kid pulled out another one and a small bottle of water. "Hopefully you don't mind sharing," he said, opening the bottle. "This is all we have."

Taking the offered bottle, Conan took a quick swig of the water and handed the bottle back to Kid. There definitely wasn't enough food or water to bring them back up to steam, but it was enough to last them the last leg of their journey. The only problem was now that he'd taken time out to actually eat, he was starting to realize just how much his small body had been deprived. Not good. As soon as Kid lowered the bottle, the diminutive detective snatched it again.

"Say what you will about Daichi-san, but you've got to appreciate Matsunaga-san's hospitality," Kid gave a faint smile, taking another drink from the bottle as Conan lowered it. "Think we're ready to get home?"

"Definitely," Conan answered, turning his eyes to his hometown. As trying as everything had been, as harrowing as their trials had ended up, it all culminated in returning to safety: to coming home. It was a breath of fresh air, pacifying his anxious spirit. And if Vampire wanted him back, well, the killer would have to find him on his territory amongst his friends. No, now was the diminutive detective's chance to recover and plan his counterattack. Tired as he may have been, he walked on, taking the lead with renewed vigor, passing the familiar places and people until, at last, the two boys were at the foot of the Mouri Detective Agency, just outside of Poirot.

Conan was about to open the door and head back inside when he noticed Kid turning away from the corner of his eye. "Glad you're home, Tantei-kun," the thief murmured, not unhappily, yet the tone of his voice almost sounded disappointed.

"You're not coming in?" the diminutive detective asked, offering Kid a quizzical look. At the thief's noise of discomfort, or, at least, what he assumed was such a noise, Conan rolled his eyes and pointed to the door. "Get in. Do me the favor of not being a complete dumbass. Do not go home alone."

The thief let out a noise of amusement and once more turned to leave. "Who do you think I am, Tantei-kun? I'll be fine on my own." Even while he said this and began to walk away, Conan easily noticed his rival's weary steps and overall worn out appearance. Daichi and whatever he'd done for them certainly did well to get Kid from near-death to where he was now, but even that miracle work didn't seem to be enough to get the thief back to his old self. He might be more energetic than he'd been in a while, but that didn't mean much, given the circumstances and Kid's tendency to downplay his wounds. This whole mess was almost like reliving the damned "Inferno Heist" all over again.

"I'm saying it one more time, Kid," Conan warned, lowering his voice and frowning. "Get inside. It's a safe place to rest. You can call whoever you need to pick you up." At the thief's slightly pensive pause, the diminutive detective continued, "No tricks. I'm not interested in getting you arrested… Not outside of a heist, anyway. Plus," he walked over to the thief and lightly tugged his shirt sleeve to guide him back to the Agency doorstep, "it'd be a pretty poor way to repay all that you've done for me if I just let you run off and die or something."

It took about a minute of silence before Kid sighed and followed Conan. "Looks like I have no choice," the thief grumbled good-naturedly.

The diminutive detective grinned in response and led the way through the doorway and up the staircase to his home. It was kind of funny, in retrospect, how the Agency had turned into more of a home than his old home, in all its glory, had ever been. Sure, it was a lot smaller, but there were others here, and they were what made the small apartment feel so safe and warm. Glancing up at Kid's features, he wondered if it was just him that felt that way. He was probably pretty uncomfortable, not that it showed.

Still, the thought of finally making it home, finally seeing Ran again… well, it gave him a little more pep to each of his steps. He only noticed this when he heard Kid quietly snickering from several steps behind and gave a flustered smile in response.

At the top of the staircase, Conan first knocked on the door and announced himself before entering, nodding for Kid to follow him inside. Within seconds of getting his shoes off, he was scooped off his feet by who he was fairly certain was Ran (not that he would admit how he made that assumption, of course).

"Conan-kun!" she exclaimed, hugging him close. They stayed that way for a while before Ran allowed him just the smallest space for his own and asked, "Where on earth were you? Are you okay?" amongst many other rapid-fire questions that he couldn't quite process all at once.

Not quite knowing what to say to respond to her plethora of questions, Conan settled by gently hugging her back and saying, "I'm okay, Ran-neechan. I'm home now." Honestly, that's all that really mattered to him at the moment. He was home. He was with Ran again. And that was more than enough. Deciding to bring Kid into Ran's notice, he continued with a bright and childish smile, "Kai-niichan found me and brought me home."

Much to his surprise, when the diminutive detective glanced back at him, Kid looked genuinely embarrassed and said, "It was nothing... It's not like we were all that far from here…" And much like his injuries, it looked like Kid's plan was to completely downplay the situation, not that Conan could fault him for it. Ran looked like she'd been worrying about him a lot even without knowing he was with a thief and a serial killer. He really didn't want to think about what that worry would transform into if he told her the real story… he'd probably never be allowed out of her sight again… He definitely wouldn't be allowed to finish the case and stop Vampire, though to be fair, she would probably do everything in her power to keep him from the case anyway. Children and serial killers didn't mix, after all.

Still, despite Kid's uncharacteristic bashfulness, Ran was clearly grateful. She thanked him dozens of times over and asked if he needed anything, which he acknowledged but declined. It was a little disconcerting to see the normally smug and outgoing thief acting so meek. Though, maybe it shouldn't have been so jarring. Kid had been deviating from his usual attitude since they'd left Vampire's slaughterhouse…

"The only thing I need right now is a phone," Kid admitted, continuing with a sheepish look, "I lost mine a little while ago and need to let someone know where I am before they start to worry." Not that he hadn't already been gone long enough to be missed, of course.

Ran readily agreed and was about to offer him her cell phone when she must've noticed the thief's slight unsteadiness. She gave him a concerned look and asked, "Are you sure you're okay, Kai-san?"

Kid didn't reply for a moment, eyes a little unfocused before he snapped out of whatever daze he was in, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, I guess, but I'm fine. Really." Ran gave a slightly uncertain look, but handed him her phone, regardless. He dialed a number and shortly after giving his "hello," a booming female voice forced him to hold it away from his ear, wincing all the while. "Yeah, it's me. And geez, do you need to shout?" A few seconds later, the thief scowled slightly and furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? I haven't been gone that long… Look, you can yell at me in person soon enough. I'm at the Mouri Detective Agency. Have your dad or Jii-chan drive… Because I'm tired… Geez, I know you're afraid of the serial killer, but honestly, I'm fine. No chump like that would ever get me… Yeah, see you soon. Bye." From what he could make out from the call, Conan was willing to bet it had been toward that friend Kid had been talking about earlier. It was also clear that, once more, he was downplaying the situation to keep her calm. Not a bad decision, given how just the sound of Kid's voice seemed to set her off, if that sudden shouting was anything to go by.

When he hung up and offered the phone back to Ran, the girl asked, "Was something wrong? I heard something about the serial killer…"

"Oh that?" Kid asked, slightly smiling and looking more like his usual self. "No worries. My friend was just jumping to conclusions. Claimed I was gone for about two weeks and freaked out. But I'm fine. I mean, if that guy had got me, I wouldn't be here now, right?" And just to make it all the more convincing, the thief let out a bit of a laugh.

Ran blinked, thinking for a moment before saying, "I think that's about how long Conan-kun's been missing, actually…"

The statement made both boys stare at her in surprise. Had it actually been two weeks? Conan looked over to Kid in a silent question, but the thief gave him a look that showed he was just as surprised. Two weeks…?

"Are you sure?" Kid asked, looking perplexed. "I thought it was only about one week. Give or take a couple of days."

But Ran shook her head. "No. Conan-kun's been gone since the last Kid heist about two weeks ago." Starting to look just as puzzled as the two boys, she asked, "Where were you two, then?"

Neither had a good lie planned out. Kid stayed quiet and all Conan could think to do was stammer a few filler words. Had it not been for the time disparity, any lie might've sounded genuine. Now that Ran was fully aware of that difference, it made thinking up any plausible (comforting) lie extremely difficult. Anywhere safe, they would have been well-aware of the passage of time. Only in severe situations would both of them have lost track of time. Now, it was possible that if they remained silent, Ran would drop it, but, having grown up with her for the majority of his life, Conan knew that she most likely wouldn't drop the issue until she got straight answers. Damn.

Dropping his shoulders in defeat and letting out a slight sigh mixed with the smallest amount of frustration, Conan said, "It's a long story. We should probably sit down."


Futoshi sat down, watching the outside world from the small window in his room. Spring changed to summer and summer to fall. But now it was winter, in more ways than just season. What had started off so innocently had now changed into something sinister and cold… It was a sad kind of irony that haunted his dreams. One loss—one poor decision—had led to this necessary evil.

As usual, his books were scattered on most of the free surfaces around his room. There was too much to read, to understand. Too much he needed to know if his plan was going to pan out properly. And if this nightmare was ever going to end, he'd have to figure out how to make that thing. He seriously doubted the odds of actually catching Kaitou Kid. He wasn't known as a "phantom thief" for nothing, after all. But, if Akira somehow did catch the Kid, well… maybe they'd gain a useful ally.

Shaking his head to clear those fantasies from it, Futoshi moved to his drawer and picked out a small vial filled with a clear liquid, along with a hypodermic needle and syringe. He could pick apart all the theories he wanted, but if he didn't try to test them, it would all be for naught. Funny, how quickly a scientist could lose himself in his work… how people could so easily become nothing more than test subjects and numbers… He'd become what he'd always sneered at, and it couldn't matter less.

Having taken what he'd needed, the scientist turned and left his room, flipping a small photograph face down on his way out. That photo had no reason to stand face up while he was experimenting… The ghost of that person didn't need to know how far he'd fallen, nor how many others would be joining them because of him.

Taking a moment to lock his door, Futoshi once more shook his head. You care more about the dead than the living, he mentally chided. You started this hellish experiment and now even the reason for beginning this is gone. You've already done irreversible damage. The thoughts had been plaguing him since he'd first begun testing the drug on humans, back when he was desperate for results. In hindsight, testing on Akira had been a double-edged sword. It gave his contractors the knowledge that he could complete the experiment, but it also let him see the dire consequences of his actions. Akira, who had been nothing short of kind to him ever since they'd met, could no longer be considered a friend. He was little more than a servant, and one that was slowly simmering with hatred at that. Bound by the prototype drug… It was a truly terrible thing.

And thinking of the prototype, he wondered how that escaped lab rat was doing. Did they survive the mortality rate, or were they lying dead in the snow somewhere? Did the modified prototype even work? Oh, he had quite the number of questions lined up about that one, and, until Akira or his grunts found him or the body, it was unlikely that he'd have answers. That was particularly annoying, to say the least. But, so long as he got his answers eventually (though sooner would be preferred), he could accept that he just needed to remain patient.

As he walked down the staircase, he noticed a few of Akira's grunts talking in low voices (not that they had ever learned to do so effectively). While he would normally ignore it, when he overheard one of them mention something about the escaped Conan and Kai, he decided it might be interesting.

"Still haven't found them?" one asked, sounding profoundly worried.

"Not at all," another answered, just as nervous. "Master Vampire's going to kill us...!"

"Oi oi, it's Mia's fault! She should be the one in trouble here, not us!"

"Yeah, who'd have guessed she'd fall for that bastard Kai?"

"Protecting our enemies like that, what a piece of work she is!"

Hideki cut in, looking annoyed, "Yes, it's a pain in the ass that we have to look for them again. Don't blame Mia for your incompetence, Daisuke."

"You're one to talk, bastard! That Conan brat hits like a truck!" Daisuke countered, scowling and just as irate. "You try taking a shot to the skull, then we'll talk!"

Smirking, Hideki said, "Nah, but I gotta say, the black eye and broken nose suit you."

Knowing the lot of them were just going to continue bickering, Futoshi made his way past them. Sometimes they had genuinely good information. This was apparently not one of those times. Though, he supposed he'd have to have a personal chat with Mia. The girl had a specific job, and if she was just going to start letting his test subjects out, then she had no reason to remain. Even if she was Akira's daughter, if she couldn't fulfill her role then she was worthless to him. He needed those test subjects, damn it.

Futoshi passed through another hallway and reached the far end. Taking out his keys, he unlocked a door that had been painted over to look like the wall. It was a useful room for experimenting in. Hidden from sight and soundproofed (which made him wonder just what the hell happened in this place before he came here)… large enough to host his heavier tools and, of course, the lucky one that he planned to test the drug on.

Today's subject was one of those who had refused to flee during the breakout. An older male whose very presence radiated stubbornness. He'd apparently kicked one of the grunts and bit another in an attempt to stay at Start, but, given he was here now, that had obviously failed. The old man watched Futoshi with sharp, distrustful eyes and a mouth twisted into an angry frown. They all started off like that, though. Nothing new.

It was funny. No matter what the subject looked like, it always played out the same way. They'd start off so defiant, so brave… and once they'd been drugged, they'd act frantic and afraid, until, of course, they collapsed and started to quickly rot from the inside out. At that point, it was best to call Akira to finish them off and have his grunts dispose of the corpse. No use to anyone at that point. How on earth had Akira survived…?

The old man spat out some curse that only served to snap the scientist out of his thoughts. Right, he still had today's experiment to perform. Not that he expected much to change, but it was always worth a shot.

He connected the needle to the syringe and drew in some of the liquid drug. The old man noticed this and started rattling off all the reasons why he shouldn't inject him with the needle, not that Futoshi even bothered to process his pleas. At one point, he'd listened, and listening only made it harder to do his job… so, over time, he'd simply learned to ignore them and focus solely on his tests.

It was over in a handful of seconds. Just the prick of the needle and a swift injection. Same as always. Futoshi took three calculated steps back and watched and waited for the drug to take full effect. The old man gave an inhuman screech and clutched his stomach before falling from the table he was on and writhing on the ground. Interesting, Futoshi thought, I don't remember that happening to Akira or the escapee. If that's the case, then whatever I did for those two trials and not for the others is what I'm looking for. Either that, or there's something different about how their bodies reacted with the drug. I'll just have to look over my data again.

Still, though he had a fairly good idea of where this test was going, he remained still until the man's thrashing ceased. As always, Futoshi checked his pulse to know whether he'd died or simply passed out. Tachycardia… That was new. The stomach pain wasn't, though. And that was typically an indicator of coming death, or at least so far as his trials had gone. Best to call Akira to clean up. At least he was making some kind of progress…

The scientist scratched down his observations on a notebook that he'd chained to a table. It wasn't that he was worried about someone stealing it, because, if they wanted to, breaking that thin chain would be child's play… It was more a way to keep it in one place so that he didn't lose it. He'd learned the hard way never to trust notebooks left unattended or misplaced back when he'd had his family. All it took was someone to get a hold of it for just a few seconds and poof! It was gone forever.

The memory brought him the faintest ghost of a smile. Yes, those were the good old days. Back before all the chaos that destroyed everything. Back before Crow and his men… the bastard in sheep's clothing…!

"Futoshi-kun?" Junko's voice questioned. "Are you alright?" She'd placed a hand on his shoulder without his notice. A slight shiver worked its way down his spine, followed by a wave of self-disgust. It wasn't his job to brood; his job was to make a functional drug, damn it.

"Fine. I'm fine," he answered curtly, pulling just out of her reach. "Let your daughter know not to interfere with my experiment." The woman nodded, slightly hurt by his tone. "Look," he sighed, "we're not home-free until either I make this drug or we catch Kid. There is no third option. And Kid's back into his infrequent heists, so now we have no way of finding him short of capturing the detectives close to him and hoping we get lucky. In short, we're relying on my experiment to save all of our skins. Unless you're perfectly fine with everyone dying?" The explanation came off sounding cold, much to Futoshi's disdain. Junko had never done him any wrong, yet here he was, threatening her daughter and dragging her into more trouble. Small wonder Akira hated him.

"S-sorry Futoshi-kun," she said, once cheerful eyes now clouded by sorrow.

"Do you know where Akira is?" he asked, rather than try to apologize. There wasn't any point in it. He'd just get irritated again anyway. No point in apologizing if he was just going to make the exact mistake a few hours later. Akira and Junko expected it by now, anyway.

"Aki-chan's in the attic, I think," she answered meekly. "There was something up there he wanted to look for."

Futoshi nodded, dismissing her and walking away. He wasn't sure what his old friend was looking for up there… the attic was mostly filled with junk and things from the building's former residents…

Regardless, the scientist climbed the staircases and made his way to the attic. He knocked on the door before entering and finding Akira shin-deep in junk and looking through an old photo album that had been left behind. His presence went unnoticed, as the other man seemed too deeply engrossed in whatever he was looking at. Eventually, he pulled a photograph out of the album and placed it with an older, yellowed newspaper, finally turning around and flinching when his eyes met Futoshi's.

"What do you want?" the other man growled, posture bordering on defensive. It wasn't like the scientist had ever assaulted him, though. Akira was more than capable of tossing him through a window if he wanted… thankfully the thought hadn't seemed to occur to him…

"I finished today's experiment," Futoshi stated calmly, doing his best to remain composed.

"And?" his former friend continued to growl.

"You know what to do," Futoshi sighed in exasperation. "Have it gone by tomorrow and write anything you discover down."

"Yeah yeah," Akira grumbled dismissively. "I'll do it. Like I have any choice in the matter…" The last statement was made with a cold tone dripping in venom that would have made the scientist back off, had he not gotten used to it. As it was now, there was no surprise, just a jolt of pain through what remained of his heart.

As his once-friend left the room, Futoshi sighed and leaned against a wall, staring out of the small round window on the other side of the room. I'm sorry, Akira… I'm trying…

The sun was starting to set on yet another fruitless day. Indeed, it was the winter of his life. The solitary, cold, and utterly unmerciful time that changed men into monsters, kings into tyrants, and soldiers-in-arms into the bitterest of enemies. Why was he still trying, then? If all was already lost, why continue punishing himself? Because Akira needs me… because I can't let that person down… I have to keep persevering… Neither of the first two answers fit properly anymore, if he was honest with himself. Maybe he was simply continuing on out of fear of ending it all. Maybe he was just living because that was all he knew how to do. And maybe, just maybe, it was to avenge himself. To save himself from this disgrace he'd been given.


The escape is complete... now to counter-strike.