"Dear Backstory," I said. "I just wrote you to help a) build Shinichi's character, b) foreshadow some things for the later parts of the story, and c) deliver some of that oh-so-delicious-angst along the way. I did NOT write you so that you could become a 20,000 word monstrosity that takes over my story."

"Tough," said the Backstory. "I'm taking over. Deal with it."

So… welcome to chapter two of the behemoth that took over the rest of this section of my story! I'm not so sure how Conan feels about this much of the story being exclusively dedicated to causing him pain, but I know that I'M sure enjoying it, so…

Here you go! After this, there will be a few more chapters of backstory, so settle in for the ride. ^-^;

Staring up at the plain, dim ceiling of their new room, Shinichi let out a sigh.

Five thousand, eight hundred and seventy nine, divided by six is… let's see… You put six into 58… subtract… and then bring down the 7…

The days since the kidnappers' latest panic and relocation had passed uneventfully and very, very slowly. Shinichi knew that he ought to feel grateful—very grateful. If anything happened, after all, it would probably be violent, given Number Three's reaction when he's found out about the most recent clue Shinichi had left. This one had been rather impressive, really. Shinichi hadn't received a beating like that since the kidnappers had filmed that video for his parents a few weeks ago. Still, after days on end of lying in a small, dimly-lit, empty warehouse office, Shinichi would have given just about anything for a book, a soccer ball, or even just a rubber band. Right now, he could think of about a hundred ways he could use a rubber band to amuse himself.

6 goes in evenly 979 times, but there's a remainder of 5, so the answer is going to be a decimal… what's 5/6 as a decimal, again? It's one of those repeating ones, like 0.33333 or 0.56565656….

Shinichi suppressed a sigh and looked over at Kiyomi, who was asleep on the floor with her back turned to him. Things were a little bit better when they were both awake and he had someone to talk to. But Kiyomi had barely slept at all since Number Three had hurt Shinichi again, and he wasn't about to wake her if she'd finally nodded off. With another, softer sigh, Shinichi rallied his focus (again) toward his mental exercise of doing long division in his head. He might be bored out of his mind, but that was no reason to let his brains rot out of his skull.

0.833333. That's it. The answer is 979.8333333333. So what if I take something higher, like 19,430, and divide it by—…

"I know … … are moving slower …'d thought." A faint, gruff voice interrupted Shinichi's mental ramblings from somewhere on the other side of the office door, where the main warehouse area of the building was. The sound of someone pacing across the floor reached his ears. "The … kid's been complicating things. I … already … you, I'm a chemist, not a criminal! … … ... … … but please, … … … … can do this if … just have enough time … pull it off!"

Silently, Shinichi eased himself upright. His ribs screamed out in protest, but he ignored them, shifting closer to the door. The voice belonged to the ringleader of the three kidnappers, a lean man of moderate height who simply referred to himself as "Number One" to keep his identity hidden. Since Shinichi could only hear one set of footsteps, Number One was probably alone for now, which meant he must be on the phone with someone. Shinichi frowned. Over the weeks he'd been here, he had heard several fragmented bits of rather intense phone conversations, but Number One had been cautious enough that Shinichi had never been able to make out anything particularly telling. From the little he'd gathered, he guessed that One was coordinating with another partner in their little kidnapping spree.

There was a pause as the person on the other end of the conversation responded, and Shinichi narrowed his eyes, settling into a crouch next to the door. Unfortunately, the next several sentences were so quiet that Shinichi couldn't hear them at all. Finally, Number One raised his voice just enough that Shinichi was able to make out a few words, something that sounded like "No! Place, Jim! All gettet done! Just let me…" The rest of the sentence was inaudible.

There was a brief exchange that Shinichi couldn't make out, and then finally, there was a bit of silence, followed by a loud string of curse words and a solid-sounding thump from the other room—Shinichi guessed that Number One had punched a nearby wall in anger. The phone call must have ended, and whatever had been discussed, One didn't seem happy about it.

Marginally, Shinichi relaxed, turning his thoughts inward. What in the world had he actually heard in that last sentence? It was probably something more like "No! Please, Jim! I'll get it done! Just let me…" and then whatever else had followed that. It was an odd set of words to hear from the ringleader of the operation. Could One's partner be reconsidering their plan, trying to back out?

"Hey, Number One?" a new voice called. Instantly Shinichi was back on the alert, silently pressing an ear to the door.

One muttered something, sounding disgruntled, but called out a quick, "Yeah, what is it?"

"You know exactly what I wanna talk about," said the newcomer, and Shinichi's eyes narrowed as he recognized the voice of Number Three, a tall, worn man who was easily the most violent of the kidnappers. Footsteps worked their way from Shinichi's right to somewhere that was just about level with the door he was crouching behind, and a picture formed in his mind of Number Three stalking up to his leader, jabbing a pointed finger as he did so. "If this drags on for any longer, I'm either gonna bail with my share of the money so far or blow your head off your stupid—…"

"You won't have to do either of those things," Number One said, his voice shifting to a firmer tone. "I guarantee it. And if you can grow even an inkling of patience in that overactive brain of yours, then you'll see soon enough that all of this will be worth it."

"Oh. And that's why you've been avoiding me ever since that last, highly successful negotiation with the Kudo family," Three snarled. His voice was dripping with sarcasm… in the same way that a fire hose "dripped" water onto flames.

Shinichi ground his teeth in frustration as One gave his reply in a soft, icy tone—a tone that was, once again, too soft to hear. Three hissed something back, and Shinichi was able to make out bits and pieces about a first hideout, prior kidnappings, Kiyomi's ransom, and how well things had been going until a certain someone had messed things up.

"I know what I'm doing!" One said, his voice turning louder and more insistent. "We've hit some rough spots, sure, but with the money we'll get from the Kudo brat, we'll have double what we got from the other kidnappings combined!"

"I'm sick and tired of hearing that!" Three yelled. "The Kudos are rich, but they're not made've money! Why not just be satisfied with what they've already got, you moron?"

There was a brief pause as the two battled silently for dominance. It was easy to envision their tense postures and the heat in their eyes as they stared one another down.

"The Kudos may not be 'made of money,'" One grated, "but the one thing they do have is connections. The mom knows all the big names in acting across two countries, and the dad's in with all the heavy hitters of the writing industry and the police force and even certain politicians. I would've thought…"

"Well, you thought wrong," Number Three snapped. "They don't have the money. They haven't contacted their connections fast enough, or maybe they aren't as connected as you thought they were. And in the meantime, 'Number One,' I'm getting sick 'n tired of sticking my neck out like this! Look, can't we just…"

The voices trailed into indiscernible tones as Number Three's voice dropped into a quiet, venomous hiss.

Every muscle tense, Shinichi pressed his ear to the door as hard as he possibly could. Curse this stupid, too-thick door! The low-toned argument continued until finally, Number Three gave a shout that made Shinichi jump.

"FINE! Fine, you idiot! You keep yer stupid plans and big, pretty schemes, or whatever it is you're thinking! Just make sure I get my share 've the cash, and don't you dare get us caught!" A stream of violent curse words drifted through the air, and after a series of heavy, angry stomps on the ground, the distant sound of a slamming door on the story above them told Shinichi that Number Three had left the conversation.

For a moment, there was nothing, and Shinichi had almost given up on hearing anything else. Behind him, he heard Kiyomi stirring as she woke up from her nap, but he warned her to stay quiet with a sharp motion. Then, a new voice met his ears, drifting through the doorway in soft, worn-out tones. Number Two. Shinichi had been so intent on listening to One's phone call that he had somehow missed hearing the second set of footsteps that had approached the room at the beginning of the argument.

"He's crazy, but … he's right, you know," Number Two said. His mild voice had a resigned, weary sound to it. He had always been the softest of the kidnappers, the most laid-back. "I may be new to this whole style of living, but I just… I'm ready to get back to my kids. We've been at this for too long, and we've pushed our luck far enough. We're going to get caught if we don't wrap this up soon."

"I know," came One's heavy reply after a short pause. "I don't like this either—that freakish kid will be the death of us if we don't watch our step."

"So what do we do?"

One's answer came after a half-resigned, half-sinister chuckle. "I'm pretty sure the answer's obvious… even though you're not going to like it. We just need to stop keeping all our eggs in one basket."

A chill went down Shinichi's spine.

"We… wait." Number Two sounded nervous. "We what?

"The four brats we've gone through are hardly the only prodigies in Japan," One said. "I've already got a name picked out to be target five."

No, Shinichi thought, angry bile rising in his throat. The deep bruises on his sides seemed to burn as if he'd received them only moments ago. No, no, no, no, no! You can't do this to anyone else! I won't let you!

Two moved into the room a little bit further, protesting. "But… You said that we were going to wait until Kiyomi-chan's deal was over with before we made any new moves! The more kids we take, the more opportunities the police have to gather clues!"

"And the more time we take, the more time they have to string those clues together. Do you have any better ideas?"

Number Two was silent. After a few seconds of nonverbal contest, it was apparent that Two had given in, because when Number One continued, he said, "Good. Now, I've got a list in my head of about five other targets we could grab, in order of priority. The fewer we can hit, the better, but I've already piled up a decent amount of info on all of them, just in case. This first one will take a few weeks of extra surveillance, but I have a loose plan sketched out already…"

To Shinichi's utter dismay, the rest of the conversation was held in quiet tones, and he was unable to glean even a hint about the details of the kidnapper's plans. Eventually, the discussion wound to a close, and Number Two headed back upstairs, leaving Number One to continue standing guard outside the door of their uncooperative hostages. Exhausted from holding injured muscles in one position for so long, Shinichi slumped to the ground on top of the small pile of blankets that Number Two had found for them somewhere. He let himself rest for a moment, but then looked up and met Kiyomi's eyes, which were wide with fear and understanding.

"Can't," she whispered. "We can't let them kidnap anyone else. Number Three gets too mean. We can't let them!"

Nodding once, Shinichi pulled himself back into a sitting position and skootched around to face her. Dimly, he wondered if Kiyomi knew that the kidnappers had already killed one of the victims they'd had before them. The little boy who'd died was the reason that the police had gotten involved in the case to start with—his parents had contacted the authorities, in spite of the kidnappers' warnings.

If any more victims got tangled up in this mess… if they or their parents or friends made one wrong move…

"No," he agreed quietly. "We can't let that happen." He took a quiet breath, studying Kiyomi intently. "Tomorrow, I'm going to do something that's really, really stupid, Kiyomi-chan."

Kiyomi hesitated, but then nodded. "How can I help?" she asked.

.*.*.*.

The shard of glass—a broken piece of a mirror that Number Three had smashed on a particularly bad night—was smooth and sharp in Shinichi's hand as he clutched it close to his chest. He resisted the urge to shift to a more comfortable position as he lay awake on the blankets, focusing intently on making his breathing as deep and as even as possible.

Next to him, Kiyomi fiddled nervously with the hem of her shorts. She was very much on edge—who wouldn't be?—and the relentless sound of Number Three pacing outside of their door didn't help things. Shinichi wished that he could reach up again and comfort her, but he wanted to establish to the kidnappers that he wasn't awake right now, and Number Three was known to poke his head into their room every other minute, always suspicious that he would find Shinichi up to no good. And besides, if the kidnappers stuck to their usual schedule of whom was guarding their door at what time…

The quiet, welcome sound of footsteps coming down a set of stairs drifted through the door. "Hey, Three?" called a faint voice. "I'm here to take my turn guarding the kids."

Number Three let out an irritated growl. "It's about time! Detective brat's napping. Artist girl is twiddling her thumbs. Let me know if either of 'em get out of line."

"Yes, of course," said Number Two, with just the barest hint of dry sarcasm. "You definitely have a way of working with them."

Three either didn't notice the veiled distaste in Two's voice or he chose to ignore it. Soon, Shinichi could hear the sound of footsteps heading up the stairs. Two opened the door briefly to make sure that both of the hostages were in place as described, but then turned away, closed the door, and headed further into the main room of the warehouse to occupy himself somehow as he kept watch for the next few hours.

To avoid looking too suspicious, Kiyomi waited several more minutes before making her move. Twice, she squeezed Shinichi's shoulder in a silent question of whether it was the right time, but both times, he shook his head. Finally, on the third time, he gave a silent, affirmative nod.

Kiyomi took a deep breath, picked herself off the ground, and opened the door to their room a few inches. "Number Two?" she said timidly.

There was a slight pause as Number Two looked up, surprised. "Kiyomi-chan?" he said. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Kiyomi answered, "but I was wondering if I could have more paper and something to draw with."

Softly, Number Two cleared his throat. "I… Um… yeah. Hold on just a second. I think the old stack of paper I found is still on one of the shelves in here…"

After a few minutes of Two shuffling different objects around in the warehouse, the door opened wider and the man handed Kiyomi a thick pad of paper and his own pen. "Still haven't found any pencils or anything with color. Sorry. I kinda doubt this old dump has any."

"That's okay," Kiyomi said, and although Shinichi had his eyes closed, there was a small smile in her voice. "Thank you."

Number Two grunted in response, and it sounded like he was about to head back into the warehouse, but then Kiyomi spoke again in a hopeful tone. "I filled up the other pad of paper you found for me. Do you want to see some of the things I drew?"

Two hesitated, obviously unsure. Heart pounding rapidly, Shinichi held his breath.

"Or… if you don't want to, that's fine," Kiyomi said. "I can just show them to Shinichi-kun again when he wakes up. He's been really nice. It's just really, really bor—… or, um… it's quiet in here, and I don't want to wake him up, since… you know… his sides are still hurting so much."

That did the trick. Shinichi had to suppress a smirk at Kiyomi's performance—score a point for the adorable little girl. Two stepped into the room, gently pushing at the door behind him as he did so, and then crouched next to Kiyomi, who was positioned so that in order to sit next to her, he had to leave his back turned to Shinichi. Before the door could swing shut entirely, Shinichi stretched out a silent hand and stopped it with his fingertips.

"The first couple pages are just rough sketches, nothing too fancy…" Kiyomi said, her voice trembling slightly. "But I've had this idea of drawing a girl on a bridge in the rain for a while now, and on this fourth page, I finally thought I'd try it."

She continued talking about that one drawing for a few minutes, pointing out certain details she was proud of and explaining what had inspired the concept in the first place. Then, she flipped the page, and started talking about the next one in a similar level of detail. Number Two remained silent, but after several minutes of listening to Kiyomi talk, the slow sound of rustling clothing and heavy weight being shifted met Shinichi's ears. Number Two had settled fully to the ground, making himself more comfortable. He had decided to stay for however long Kiyomi decided to talk.

Now.

Carefully, Shinichi cracked his eyes open. Two's back was completely turned.

Moving slowly, Shinichi shifted his arms out to his sides, and started to push himself into a low crouch. His bare hands and sock feet made no noise on the blankets and concrete. Then, he edged towards the door, stood, and slipped out of the room without Two giving a sign that he'd noticed.

Shinichi's heart hammered in his chest as moved along. He looked around carefully—he'd gotten a few rushed glimpses of the place before, but he'd never had a chance to really observe it. The entrance to the little office where he and Kiyomi were being held was situated about halfway between an enormous loading door on the wall to his left and the stairway leading to the upper floor on his right. The building had obviously been abandoned quite some time ago, but there were still rows of wood and metal shelves stretching across the wide space. The whole place smelled musty, like mildew and old cardboard. Most of the shelves were empty, but there were some that had boxes still piled on them, and there were a good number of boxes and crates scattered around the floor—some had probably just fallen from their place, but many had also been taken down by the kidnappers or other, previous trespassers.

Well, when Three had exited, it had sounded as if he'd headed upstairs, so… Shinichi moved as fast as he could while remaining as quiet as possible. The cheerful sound of Kiyomi's chatter and Two's occasional, muted comments followed him as he went.

At the top of the stairs was a long, dim hallway with several doors on either side. Most of them were closed. At the end of the hall, an opening to the right showed that there was another hallway around the corner. Shinichi frowned in concentration. He hadn't heard any doors closing after Three had gone upstairs, so he'd probably left the door ajar. …Of course, Shinichi thought, none of the kidnappers are exactly on best terms with each other right now, so Three and One probably aren't in the same room… He shook his head. He would cross that bridge when he came to it. He'd check the open doors first, and if he didn't find Number One, he would worry about that then.

First things first. Forcing himself not to think about how ridiculous his odds were, Shinichi glided down the hallway, staying low and keeping close to the left-hand wall. The first open door led to an empty office much like the one downstairs. The second room was a closet. The third was on the right-hand side, and there was no luck there, either. Fourth door: nothing. By now, he was three-fourths of the way to the bend in the hall. Fifth door, nothing.

Sixth door…

The sound of shifting cloth met Shinichi's ears from within. He froze, examining the sliver of the room that he could see from his angle. Sunlight streamed in from a large window, illuminating the thousands of dust motes that hung in the stale air.

Holding his breath, Shinichi slipped his hand inside the room, the rest of him still hidden from sight by the mostly-closed door. The precious mirror shard trembled in his grasp as he shifted it around to see the rest of the room.

There. A man wearing a black shirt and worn jeans was slouched over a desk in the room's far corner, his back to the window and his head tilted away from Shinichi. Shinichi could hardly believe his luck—it was Number One, which meant that the incredibly risky ideas of either a) opening closed doors or b) trying this a second time wouldn't be necessary! Even more importantly, though, was the fact that Shinichi could see the man's dark hair and one of his ears in the reflected image. Any time the kidnappers were downstairs, near their captives, their masks were firmly in place, but Shinichi had known that they must take them off when they went upstairs. Nobody could wear a mask all the time.

Come on… Shinichi thought, sweat creeping down his neck and into his collar. Turn around… please turn… not enough to notice me, but enough that I can…

Shinichi's thoughts scattered as the man shifted his weight, giving out a long, exasperated-sounding sigh. He massaged his forehead with one of his hands, and then rotated his torso to look backwards out the window.

…And as he did, Shinichi saw Number One's face.

Instantly, Shinichi drew his hand back into the hallway, his blood pounding in his ears. I did it, he thought, half numb. Trembling, he stood, and crept noiselessly past the room and around the corner at the hallway's end.

Halfway there, Shinichi thought. His heart was pounding with adrenaline, triumph, and fear, but the emotions could wait. There were more doors around the bend in the hall, and he once again started checking the open ones, moving slowly.

This time, he came to a halt after peering through only two doorways. There, in a small, mostly empty room to his right, lay Number Three, stretched out on top of a sleeping bag. Again, Shinichi held the palm-sized mirror fragment tightly and eased it into the room. The small area was very dark, but he could still see enough to make out that Three was there and lying with his head turned to the wall.

Minutes ticked by. It took an agonizing eternity before the sleeping man shifted around, long enough that Shinichi's stomach was rolling with the knowledge that at one point or another, Kiyomi would run out of drawings to share. He had nearly lost his nerve and was only moments away from bolting back toward the staircase when finally Number Three lolled his head to the other side.

Success! Shinichi's heart leapt. With the room so dark, it was hardly a perfect situation, but he was confident enough in his knack for detail that it hopefully wouldn't matter.

Then, from just around the corner, Shinichi heard the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor. Footsteps sounded as Number One rose from his seat and headed toward the door. The boy's nerves were already frayed, and he jumped at the sudden noise.

…And when he did, his grip on the mirror shard shifted, and the sharp edge sliced into his hand, cutting it. Instinctively, he dropped the piece of glass.

The tiny, tinkling noise it made when it hit the ground was deafening.

No, Shinichi thought. Then, he whirled on his heel and ducked into an open room across the hallway, stuffing his bleeding fingers into his mouth as he did so.

Shinichi breathed as quietly as he could as he heard One's footsteps hesitate, and then come down the hall towards his hiding place. He could almost see it in his mind's eye as One scanned the hallway as he moved along, pausing at the half-open door to Three's room. He could almost see it as One watched there, silent for a moment, and began to turn away, only to have a glimmer of light catch his eye from the ground. Shinichi, whose senses had kicked into high alert, could hear the soft sound of glass scraping across cement as One plucked it gingerly from the floor.

There was a pause as One held it for a moment. It would have been incriminating enough for him to have simply found the shard of glass, but Shinichi's blood was on it…

And the blood was fresh.

"NUMBER TWO! WHERE ARE THE BRATS?"

Everything started to happen at once. Three yelped as he was startled into wakefulness. Distantly, Shinichi heard Two calling back from downstairs with a muffled, confused sound—he didn't seem to have understood One's angry shout. With a frustrated cry, One turned and began to run back towards the stairs. Three groaned, yelling after him ("What 'n the world izzit now?") while wrestling with his now-tangled bedding.

In that split second after Number One turned his back and before Number Three started to follow, Shinichi darted from his hiding place and ran across the hall into the room that was just to the left of Three's sleeping area. If he was remembering right, then there should be…

There! On the other side of the darkened room, there was a square hole in the wall—it had once been a window looking out over the main area of the warehouse, but the glass had been shattered a long time ago. He had glimpsed it from the other side when he'd snuck out of the office earlier. Without breaking step, Shinichi hurtled himself toward it and hoisted himself onto the ledge, the broken edge of the remaining glass biting into his hands. Then, he jumped, angling himself to his right. It was a long drop to the ground from here, but one of the shelving units was just within reach, and he managed to land on top of it before turning, grabbing one of its metal, pole-like legs, and sliding to the ground.

He barely dared to glance toward the stairs as he raced across the room to the office. He couldn't see One and Three yet (thank heavens, oh thank heavens)—they had probably stopped to pull their masks on before running after him. Even as he blessed his lucky stars, however, he heard the distinct sound of their footsteps beginning to come down the stairs.

Shinichi had never run faster in his life. As he ran, he saw a metal crowbar on the shelves nearby and he seized it, determination burning in his limbs.

He had almost reached the office when he realized something that nearly made his heart stop—the door was open wide, and nobody was inside.

For a fraction of a second, he felt panic seize him, but then, he glimpsed movement out of the corner of his eye. Kiyomi was ahead of him and to his right, crouching underneath one of the shelves. What in the world was she doing outside the office? The instant she saw him, she sprang from her hiding place and began to run towards him.

"Shinichi-kun!" she hissed, sounding panicked. "What's going on? I heard Number One yelling something, and then—…" Her questions were cut off in a sharp gasp as a clatter of noise from just behind her jerked both of their attention to the rows of shelves on their right. Number Two was there, looking frantic, his eyes darting everywhere before finally landing on Kiyomi. His face morphed from desperation to rage in an instant.

Kiyomi let out a squeak and turned to flee. With a grunt, Number Two threw himself forward and grabbed her arm. "There you are, you little—…"

Shinichi's breath caught in his lungs as, in a final burst of speed, he launched himself toward them. Number Two barely had time to register Shinichi's presence before Shinichi raised the crowbar and swung it at the kidnapper's head. He felt the blow connect with a sickening klang and a metallic vibration that made every joint in his body rattle.

Kiyomi gaped in wide-eyed horror, but when she felt the grip of her captor loosen, she wasted no time in pulling herself away and beginning to run. Although Number Two still seemed to be conscious, he had crumpled to the floor and was clutching his head in pain. Still holding his weapon, Shinichi sprinted past him, moving to catch up to Kiyomi as quickly as he could. His mind was on overdrive, and every detail of the scene was imprinting itself on his mind—the gritty feel of rust on the crowbar, the scuffing sound of Kiyomi's shoes on the cement, the motes of dust spiraling erratically through the air as they ran. In a distant corner of his mind, he noticed that Kiyomi was still somehow cradling her treasured drawing pad in her arms. As he watched however, she let it go, and the notebook fell to the ground.

Then, a new sound met his ears—a furious cry that grated horribly against his all-too-keen senses. Glancing over his shoulder, he felt his blood freeze in his veins—Numbers One and Three had finished making their way across the room, and were now pounding after him with murder in their eyes. They were only meters away.

Shinichi acted without a second thought. Adrenaline pounded through his veins, making everything move in slow motion. With all his strength, he hurled the crowbar behind him. It hit Number One in the knee, and the man stumbled, roaring in pain and fury. Three collided with him, and they nearly fell. In those two seconds that the crowbar had bought him, Shinichi pushed himself out, out, out, and away. Ahead of him, Kiyomi was still running, but he could see her skin pale as she got closer to the end of the room, where the enormous loading doors stood—doors that were firmly closed.

Shinichi didn't hesitate for an instant. He ran so quickly that he barely felt his feet make contact with the ground. He caught up to Kiyomi. He seized her hand. Then, the hauled her to the left, towards the only other door that was located on this end of the room. Warehouses of this sort almost always had a main lobby or an entry hall of some sort, and… yes! Through the door was a short hallway, and at the end of the hallway was a lobby, and to their right, at the end of the lobby was a pair of glass doors…

Glass double doors that led outside, to freedom.