Author's note: Disclaimer, warnings are at the first chapter.
I noticed that reception for the second chapter was little...none at all. I wasn't expecting a whole bunch of reviews, but none...it makes me wonder if I've done anything wrong. If I have, do tell me, kay? I want to improve, and I'm not going to if I don't get someone telling me how. Or at least where I'm going wrong.
How does one save a document from Microsoft word as html document? My computer skills are ridiculously limited, so if you know how, please tell me. Via mail or anything.
Chapter summary: It's a game of cat and mouse, a game of chase.
Akai extended his hand towards the small kid in front of him. "Show me the numbers again."
Heiji looked at Kudo for confirmation. After all, the kid did know the agent better than him. There was a small nod from the other party, and he surrendered the phone to the tall man in front of them. All his senses were screaming for him to take the phone back. Though he may not show it, but he seriously felt that this man is a bastard. His indifference for the people's lives, and that I-care-naught look, all mounted to that fact that he was a cold blooded...inhuman. Heiji's heart was boiling, but he knew this was not the time to show it. He would give that man a huge punch after this, but that was after. There were more important things to do now, other than quarreling with ice-mans who wouldn't care at all.
There was a pause when Akai thought over the code, before he spoke, his tone confident. "Anyone tried eight seats west, thirteen seats north, and seven seats east, starting from the seat where you found the last phone?" Heiji looked over at Kudo. Indeed, that thought had never crossed their minds. There was no time to waste. The taller of the detectives leapt up and headed straight for the seat, while the shorter one merely looked up at Akai.
"What makes you so sure?" Hattori was interested in catching the criminal, but he was more concerned about this strange man.
"An old code from the FBI." Akai shrugged nonchalantly. Conan, seeing that he could get no more from the tight-lipped man, turned back to the map he and Hattori had borrowed from a spectator. Even though they had solved all the codes, there was still the chance that the person would bomb up the place anyway. The three places where the phones were planted were scattered all over the stadium, which meant the man had to be on the move continuously. No clue there. But if he hated the place so much that he wanted to kill all the people, then...
Time was running out. Without another thought, Conan ran down the steps into the tiny exit where the washrooms where located. They were situated underneath the stadium, somewhere round the center of the stadium...the center...
There! Just beside the washroom door, the emergency exit held a ladder and a trapdoor that would open up to the center of the field.
He had everything planned. The bomb was set to blow up in ten minutes time, giving him enough time to flee. And the door burst open. He whirled around. He had obviously locked the door, just minutes ago. How could it suddenly open? "Who's there?" his voice echoed round the room, sounding hollow even to himself.
"It was a brilliant plan. By leaving the code solving to a seventeen year- old kid, no one would have even guessed the code, seeing that it was a long forgotten one from the FBI itself. Oldest trick in the book, actually, but it nearly worked." A small figure emerged from behind the door, the only feature that could be seen from the shadows being a large pair of glasses, its lenses reflecting the light from the emergency room. At his feet, a pair of shoes crackled with what looked like static energy. Wait a minute...a kid? How could a kid spoil the whole plan? He had been at it for months, scheming and strategizing the codes. He was almost certain no one would break it. But now, here was a kid reading his mind like a book!
There was a defeated sigh. "Yes. I intended to bomb the stadium no matter what. Which is why I'm not bothering to even ring the cell phone left at the seat." He raised his head to look at the clear blue eyes that did not seem to fit in the face of a child. Those eyes...were so mature, so intelligent. Almost as though the owner had experienced the same tragedy as himself. He could feel tears streaming down his face now. "This place is worthless. There used to be a hospital here, built specially for the poor. But to build the stadium, they demolished it." He choked on a sob. "My wife was just about to give birth. When the others were evacuating, she was in pain and could not move. She was left behind. And she went down with the building." His legs felt weak. Slowly, the strength to hold himself up slipped away, leaving him as a kneeling pile on the floor. "How could they? How could they KILL A PERSON JUST FOR A RECREATION CENTER?"
Conan walked out fully from behind the door, his footsteps making no sound against the cold pavement floor, light glinting off his lenses, hiding his eyes. The boy's lips were curved into a bitter smile, as though mocking at his whole, twisted life, so similar to the little detective's own, though in another way. "I had thought that you were a cold-blooded animal. Never once would I have imagined you weeping for the loss of a person." Conan looked up to face him, eyes flashing angrily. "If so, then why won't you spare a thought for the rest out there ?"
A ball of black and white popped out from the belt he was wearing, expanded, and within a second, it was hurdling towards him. There was no time to dodge. And even as he blacked out, two words escaped from his lips, "You won."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You're so lucky!" Genta gushed. How Conan always managed to go to the best cases was beyond him. Beside him, Conan bounced a football on his knee, a look of boredom on his face. After Heiji found out about the whole thing, he had been furious, insisting that Conan had realized it earlier and didn't tell the older-looking boy just so that he, Conan, could catch the criminal. Ha. Did he mention that it was Heiji's face that got into the news? No, obviously not.
They had barely walked ten steps away from Professor Hagase's house when he called them back. "Oi! Genta! Call the others to stop! Seems like there's no school today." He called from the gate, a serious expression on his usually cheery face. Conan turned back in time to see Agasa's silhouette walk back into the house, and an impending feeling of doom fell over him. Call it his detective instinct, but something was not right. Agasa waited till all of them were seated in his living room before speaking again. "Your principal just called. Seems like there was a murder case at your school." Conan's heart gave a little jolt. "The deceased was you teacher, sensei Lin. She died from a shot to the heart." His eyes shifted to meet Conan's. "Heiji Hattori is already there checking out the scene. If you don't mind, I and Ai will send Conan home, seeing that it is furthest of all." Even in the face of a murder, Hagase's excuse sounded lame, but Conan spared that no further thought. The moment the other three grumbling children went off, he bombarded Hagase with questions. Or, at least, was about to, but Hagase caught him. "I know nothing about it. I've already repeated exactly what your principal said. Why else do you think I'm driving you there?" his jokes sounded forced even to himself, something that went unnoticed, for once, as Conan dialed the Mouri's number on the phone.
"Ran nee-chan? It seems like we can't go to school today." Ran's voice sounded over the phone, saying that, she knew, and she wanted him home as soon as possible. "But...but I want to stay at Professor Hagase's! He got a new game and...and" Conan whined, acting his part as a little kid.
There was a pause from the other side and Ran's defeated words came over the line, "Look after yourself, and promise you'll come back." She spoke softly, as though the other party was anything but a kid. Actually, that /i true, but she didn't know that...right?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Kazuha watched on, concerned, as Ran put down the phone, and floated towards the kitchen...or whatever room she was heading for. Yes, floated was the right word. Ever since they came back from the stadium, Ran's been like that – dreamy, listless. There was no longer any life to what she did, as though her mind was elsewhere...somewhere far, far away.
There was a loud crash as Ran tripped over a chair, but instead of the usual, glaring at the lifeless object and kicking it back into place, Ran merely placed it back, without even a word of complaint. Kazuha frowned. This wouldn't do. "Ran!" she called, beckoning to her friend. No response. "RAN!" This came as a yell, but it worked. Koguro woke from his drunken slumber for a few seconds to curse at her, before fell back into his stupor, and Ran seemed to be jolted out of whatever place she was in, and her head turned to acknowledge Kazuha's greeting, only to find the young girl beckoning to her.
Ran turned her back on wherever she was going where was she going, anyway? and headed back to the couch. _Wasn't she supposed to be going there in the first place? _ There was a sharp pain as her knee banged into the table, but she ignored it as her mind slid back to during that tournament, only two days ago. That expression...it was so familiar...it was Shinichi's. The same exhausted but confident expression that he often wore on his tougher cases, it now appeared on Conan. What did it mean? Is Conan Shinichi? The raging wars between her thoughts made her head spin. Her logical side said that it was just Ran being silly again, that no mere human could swap to and fro between ages (she had seen Shinichi a couple of times after Conan appeared, remember that), but Shinichi was no mere human. Conan was Shinichi, her gut instinct told her that. Seventeen years of learning screamed against that statement, bringing her back to square one. How she wished...how she wished something would happen again...something, anything to prove that Conan and Shinichi were different people. Hear: different. She wanted to believe that the two were not lying to her, that she could trust the both of them...and not that they had been lying to her for more than a year...
There was a tug at her sleeve, and she turned to look right into Kazuha's eyes. "Ran," Kazuha's voice was caring, concerned, gentle. "Now can you please tell me what is going on?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Why did you have to do it yourself, Aniki?" Vodka's face held an expression of bewilderment. As usual, he received no immediate answer from the person he called 'aniki', and he waited patiently as he took the cigarette lighter from its place in the car, drew out a long white stick from the cigar box, and lit it. The red glow from the tip of the cigarette formed an eerie point in the dark interior of the car, something Aniki would not have disapproved of. His brother never cared much about appearances, but it was always good to look scary, or at least, threatening. Not that Aniki needed it, his eyes were enough. Vodka remembered the first time he looked into Aniki's eyes, after five years of separation since they entered the Black Organization. He was only seven then, and Gin, a year younger then him. But even at that age, Gin's eyes bore the maturity and icy cold depths of a trained assassin. Soon after that, he himself was taken for training, but the two were no longer the same. He was thought only to kill, and he knew that, but Aniki...Aniki was the brains of the whole Black Organization now, and it wouldn't be long before the organization was handed down to him. The one-year of difference between them suddenly seemed so long. He had never heard Gin laugh since, unless it was mockery.
"Appreciate the chase, Vodka. It's the chase that makes the fruit taste good. I want her to know we're on her trail, to let her shiver in fear before we kill her." There was a slight pause, as though he was thinking about something. The ghost of a smile spread across his face, the blood lusting glint in his eye. "That's how a traitor deserves to die. Red blood contrasting against the falling flakes of white snow. Beautiful, is it not?"
Despite himself, Vodka shivered.
_He had never heard Gin laugh since._
Author's notes: I noticed that I seem to end with a scenario of Gin every time. When did I adopt this weird habit? Also, book 44 of Detective Conan is now out. My theory for the mystery seems so childish and shallow compared to the anime's. Sigh. Does the chapter need improving? *Hint hint hint* If so, do tell me. *Hint hint hint hint hint*
I noticed that reception for the second chapter was little...none at all. I wasn't expecting a whole bunch of reviews, but none...it makes me wonder if I've done anything wrong. If I have, do tell me, kay? I want to improve, and I'm not going to if I don't get someone telling me how. Or at least where I'm going wrong.
How does one save a document from Microsoft word as html document? My computer skills are ridiculously limited, so if you know how, please tell me. Via mail or anything.
Chapter summary: It's a game of cat and mouse, a game of chase.
Akai extended his hand towards the small kid in front of him. "Show me the numbers again."
Heiji looked at Kudo for confirmation. After all, the kid did know the agent better than him. There was a small nod from the other party, and he surrendered the phone to the tall man in front of them. All his senses were screaming for him to take the phone back. Though he may not show it, but he seriously felt that this man is a bastard. His indifference for the people's lives, and that I-care-naught look, all mounted to that fact that he was a cold blooded...inhuman. Heiji's heart was boiling, but he knew this was not the time to show it. He would give that man a huge punch after this, but that was after. There were more important things to do now, other than quarreling with ice-mans who wouldn't care at all.
There was a pause when Akai thought over the code, before he spoke, his tone confident. "Anyone tried eight seats west, thirteen seats north, and seven seats east, starting from the seat where you found the last phone?" Heiji looked over at Kudo. Indeed, that thought had never crossed their minds. There was no time to waste. The taller of the detectives leapt up and headed straight for the seat, while the shorter one merely looked up at Akai.
"What makes you so sure?" Hattori was interested in catching the criminal, but he was more concerned about this strange man.
"An old code from the FBI." Akai shrugged nonchalantly. Conan, seeing that he could get no more from the tight-lipped man, turned back to the map he and Hattori had borrowed from a spectator. Even though they had solved all the codes, there was still the chance that the person would bomb up the place anyway. The three places where the phones were planted were scattered all over the stadium, which meant the man had to be on the move continuously. No clue there. But if he hated the place so much that he wanted to kill all the people, then...
Time was running out. Without another thought, Conan ran down the steps into the tiny exit where the washrooms where located. They were situated underneath the stadium, somewhere round the center of the stadium...the center...
There! Just beside the washroom door, the emergency exit held a ladder and a trapdoor that would open up to the center of the field.
He had everything planned. The bomb was set to blow up in ten minutes time, giving him enough time to flee. And the door burst open. He whirled around. He had obviously locked the door, just minutes ago. How could it suddenly open? "Who's there?" his voice echoed round the room, sounding hollow even to himself.
"It was a brilliant plan. By leaving the code solving to a seventeen year- old kid, no one would have even guessed the code, seeing that it was a long forgotten one from the FBI itself. Oldest trick in the book, actually, but it nearly worked." A small figure emerged from behind the door, the only feature that could be seen from the shadows being a large pair of glasses, its lenses reflecting the light from the emergency room. At his feet, a pair of shoes crackled with what looked like static energy. Wait a minute...a kid? How could a kid spoil the whole plan? He had been at it for months, scheming and strategizing the codes. He was almost certain no one would break it. But now, here was a kid reading his mind like a book!
There was a defeated sigh. "Yes. I intended to bomb the stadium no matter what. Which is why I'm not bothering to even ring the cell phone left at the seat." He raised his head to look at the clear blue eyes that did not seem to fit in the face of a child. Those eyes...were so mature, so intelligent. Almost as though the owner had experienced the same tragedy as himself. He could feel tears streaming down his face now. "This place is worthless. There used to be a hospital here, built specially for the poor. But to build the stadium, they demolished it." He choked on a sob. "My wife was just about to give birth. When the others were evacuating, she was in pain and could not move. She was left behind. And she went down with the building." His legs felt weak. Slowly, the strength to hold himself up slipped away, leaving him as a kneeling pile on the floor. "How could they? How could they KILL A PERSON JUST FOR A RECREATION CENTER?"
Conan walked out fully from behind the door, his footsteps making no sound against the cold pavement floor, light glinting off his lenses, hiding his eyes. The boy's lips were curved into a bitter smile, as though mocking at his whole, twisted life, so similar to the little detective's own, though in another way. "I had thought that you were a cold-blooded animal. Never once would I have imagined you weeping for the loss of a person." Conan looked up to face him, eyes flashing angrily. "If so, then why won't you spare a thought for the rest out there ?"
A ball of black and white popped out from the belt he was wearing, expanded, and within a second, it was hurdling towards him. There was no time to dodge. And even as he blacked out, two words escaped from his lips, "You won."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You're so lucky!" Genta gushed. How Conan always managed to go to the best cases was beyond him. Beside him, Conan bounced a football on his knee, a look of boredom on his face. After Heiji found out about the whole thing, he had been furious, insisting that Conan had realized it earlier and didn't tell the older-looking boy just so that he, Conan, could catch the criminal. Ha. Did he mention that it was Heiji's face that got into the news? No, obviously not.
They had barely walked ten steps away from Professor Hagase's house when he called them back. "Oi! Genta! Call the others to stop! Seems like there's no school today." He called from the gate, a serious expression on his usually cheery face. Conan turned back in time to see Agasa's silhouette walk back into the house, and an impending feeling of doom fell over him. Call it his detective instinct, but something was not right. Agasa waited till all of them were seated in his living room before speaking again. "Your principal just called. Seems like there was a murder case at your school." Conan's heart gave a little jolt. "The deceased was you teacher, sensei Lin. She died from a shot to the heart." His eyes shifted to meet Conan's. "Heiji Hattori is already there checking out the scene. If you don't mind, I and Ai will send Conan home, seeing that it is furthest of all." Even in the face of a murder, Hagase's excuse sounded lame, but Conan spared that no further thought. The moment the other three grumbling children went off, he bombarded Hagase with questions. Or, at least, was about to, but Hagase caught him. "I know nothing about it. I've already repeated exactly what your principal said. Why else do you think I'm driving you there?" his jokes sounded forced even to himself, something that went unnoticed, for once, as Conan dialed the Mouri's number on the phone.
"Ran nee-chan? It seems like we can't go to school today." Ran's voice sounded over the phone, saying that, she knew, and she wanted him home as soon as possible. "But...but I want to stay at Professor Hagase's! He got a new game and...and" Conan whined, acting his part as a little kid.
There was a pause from the other side and Ran's defeated words came over the line, "Look after yourself, and promise you'll come back." She spoke softly, as though the other party was anything but a kid. Actually, that /i true, but she didn't know that...right?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Kazuha watched on, concerned, as Ran put down the phone, and floated towards the kitchen...or whatever room she was heading for. Yes, floated was the right word. Ever since they came back from the stadium, Ran's been like that – dreamy, listless. There was no longer any life to what she did, as though her mind was elsewhere...somewhere far, far away.
There was a loud crash as Ran tripped over a chair, but instead of the usual, glaring at the lifeless object and kicking it back into place, Ran merely placed it back, without even a word of complaint. Kazuha frowned. This wouldn't do. "Ran!" she called, beckoning to her friend. No response. "RAN!" This came as a yell, but it worked. Koguro woke from his drunken slumber for a few seconds to curse at her, before fell back into his stupor, and Ran seemed to be jolted out of whatever place she was in, and her head turned to acknowledge Kazuha's greeting, only to find the young girl beckoning to her.
Ran turned her back on wherever she was going where was she going, anyway? and headed back to the couch. _Wasn't she supposed to be going there in the first place? _ There was a sharp pain as her knee banged into the table, but she ignored it as her mind slid back to during that tournament, only two days ago. That expression...it was so familiar...it was Shinichi's. The same exhausted but confident expression that he often wore on his tougher cases, it now appeared on Conan. What did it mean? Is Conan Shinichi? The raging wars between her thoughts made her head spin. Her logical side said that it was just Ran being silly again, that no mere human could swap to and fro between ages (she had seen Shinichi a couple of times after Conan appeared, remember that), but Shinichi was no mere human. Conan was Shinichi, her gut instinct told her that. Seventeen years of learning screamed against that statement, bringing her back to square one. How she wished...how she wished something would happen again...something, anything to prove that Conan and Shinichi were different people. Hear: different. She wanted to believe that the two were not lying to her, that she could trust the both of them...and not that they had been lying to her for more than a year...
There was a tug at her sleeve, and she turned to look right into Kazuha's eyes. "Ran," Kazuha's voice was caring, concerned, gentle. "Now can you please tell me what is going on?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Why did you have to do it yourself, Aniki?" Vodka's face held an expression of bewilderment. As usual, he received no immediate answer from the person he called 'aniki', and he waited patiently as he took the cigarette lighter from its place in the car, drew out a long white stick from the cigar box, and lit it. The red glow from the tip of the cigarette formed an eerie point in the dark interior of the car, something Aniki would not have disapproved of. His brother never cared much about appearances, but it was always good to look scary, or at least, threatening. Not that Aniki needed it, his eyes were enough. Vodka remembered the first time he looked into Aniki's eyes, after five years of separation since they entered the Black Organization. He was only seven then, and Gin, a year younger then him. But even at that age, Gin's eyes bore the maturity and icy cold depths of a trained assassin. Soon after that, he himself was taken for training, but the two were no longer the same. He was thought only to kill, and he knew that, but Aniki...Aniki was the brains of the whole Black Organization now, and it wouldn't be long before the organization was handed down to him. The one-year of difference between them suddenly seemed so long. He had never heard Gin laugh since, unless it was mockery.
"Appreciate the chase, Vodka. It's the chase that makes the fruit taste good. I want her to know we're on her trail, to let her shiver in fear before we kill her." There was a slight pause, as though he was thinking about something. The ghost of a smile spread across his face, the blood lusting glint in his eye. "That's how a traitor deserves to die. Red blood contrasting against the falling flakes of white snow. Beautiful, is it not?"
Despite himself, Vodka shivered.
_He had never heard Gin laugh since._
Author's notes: I noticed that I seem to end with a scenario of Gin every time. When did I adopt this weird habit? Also, book 44 of Detective Conan is now out. My theory for the mystery seems so childish and shallow compared to the anime's. Sigh. Does the chapter need improving? *Hint hint hint* If so, do tell me. *Hint hint hint hint hint*