Playing with the Big Boys

A Detective Conan Alterverse Fic
By
Deborah J. Brown
Detective Conan is copyright Aoyama Gosho.

Author's Notes: While not part of the Psychic Detective Heiji series, I'll probably end up putting it into the same universe to simplify my life. Icka is the master of multiple alternate universes, but I have trouble remembering where I put my shoes in the morning, much less which universe I'm supposed to be in. Please note, this fic is set during the current Japanese run of Detective Conan, not Case Closed. There will be spoilers for the series here and a character you won't have heard of if you're only watching/reading Case Closed.

Anyway, the idea started as a joke and ended up turning into something a bit more edgy and a bit more serious. This one's also more violent than some of my other DC fics but seeing who I chose for my main character that can't be helped. The mysteries in this series won't be as deep, either. I'll also note that the series explores a theory I have about Ai and her relationship with another important character. Gosho may have fooled me, though, which is why this is AU.

I'll be making further comments on the story in my Live Journal (http/www,livejournal,com/kosaginolegion/). Review here, if you would, but feel free to comment there as well, or respond to stuff there.

Have fun!


FRIENDLY FIRE

PRESENT (Conan):
"Get down!" Conan yelled as the American boy rushed at the teenager. He wasn't sure how Shoji had recognized what he himself had only just seen, but right now the only thing that mattered was getting his friends to safety.

Ran was staring at him, puzzled, though Ai – having greater experience at recognizing danger – was leaping behind something. The other kids followed suit. At least they'd learned to listen to him when he used that tone. Conan grabbed Ran by the arm and pulled her down on top of him, praying as he did so that he was wrong.

Unfortunately, as was usually the case, he wasn't. The sound of rapid gunfire echoed over their heads, followed by panicked screams and the pounding of running feet. At last, though, there was silence and Conan dared to look up.

The room had cleared almost entirely. The punks' leader was sitting on the ground looking terrified, his companions had fled. Underneath some of the other games, Ayumi, Genta, Mitsuhiko and Ai peered out with worried expressions. On the other side of the teenager, Shoji was curled up in a ball, clearly injured himself in his effort to stop the incident. And on the floor, blood trickling down the side of his head, was the store clerk.

Ran was on her feet rapidly, rushing to the clerk's side, touched his throat, tossed her cell phone to Conan. "Call for an ambulance, Conan. Hurry! Shoji? Are you all right?"

"#Just fine! JUST EFFING MARVELOUS!#" Shoji was speaking in a combination of American and Sicilian and Conan sincerely hoped the other kids wouldn't take it into their heads to learn the new idioms that were pouring from the new boy's mouth. Got quite a vocabulary there, Sho-chan Conan couldn't help thinking, adding that point to the rest of his growing suspicions about the 'little boy'. But, surely, no one would deliberately use such an obvious pseudonym and how could he have gotten Conan decided to hold off on making any assumptions without further evidence.

Ran's English wasn't as good as Conan's, but it was good enough for her to recognize some of the curses. Nor did she really need to understand the specifics to understand what he meant. She got to her feet, went to the boy and drew him into her arms. "Stop. Calm down. I'm sure it hurts but talking that way isn't going to help. It'll be okay."

It sort of bothered Conan to watch Ran comforting someone else. On the other hand the American boy needed to be quieted and Ran's effort was working, though not quite in the way Conan suspected she'd intended. The expression on Shoji's face was grim, as if he realized that the only way she was going to stop was if he stopped. Which is probably true. He doesn't like it, either.

A voice on the other end of the phone in Conan's hand reminded him of his duty. "There's been an accident," he told the emergency operator. "Someone's badly hurt." He quickly added the address. There'd been a time when he'd have had to get off the line before questions could be asked. Something about a small boy's voice calling for help just fired off their suspicions of a hoax. After a year of it, though, they'd come to recognize Ran's cell phone number and know better than to hesitate. Now for the police. He started dialing. Hope it'll be Takagi or Sato. Even Shiratori. They usually listen to me.

PRESENT (Shoji):
"How are you doing?" The young woman police officer sat across from Shoji in the arcade's office. Sato, if he remembered correctly from surveillance. From what he'd seen of her, she was coolly competent and capable, both things he appreciated in a police officer. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Shoji shrugged off the question. "Seen worse," he muttered and realized his mistake immediately. "On CSI," he added hurriedly as Sato stared at him. "Never seen anyone get shot for real before." He hoped she wasn't so competent and capable as to recognize an outright lie.

It was Shoji's good fortune that Sato was no more inclined than the next person to believe that a small child – no matter how unusually mature – would have previous experience with the sort of violence that they'd just witnessed. That she apparently knew a bit about American TV helped. She recognized the name of the show, at least. "You watch CSI?" she asked, startled.

"Uhm Don't tell my father, would you? He'd be really mad at me." His real father had never cared what he watched and She wouldn't really care either, but Sato would have an easier time believing that a first grader from America would sneak a peek at a forbidden show rather than be permitted to watch something as violent and ugly as CSI. Not to mention about as accurate as a berretta with a silencer, he added disdainfully to himself.

Sato nodded. "Deal." She glanced out the door, where the emergency technicians were getting the clerk out of the building, their efforts hampered slightly by the panicked questions of the young punk who'd shot him. "Hey, Soun-kun! If you're really so worried about him, then shut up and let them get him to the hospital!"

That had a salutatory effect on the teenager. He backed off, looking near tears, and collapsed back against the wall, sitting heavily and burying his face in his arms. Sato shook her head. "What a mess." She turned back to Shoji. "How did you know it was real?"

"Dad's a gun collector," he answered, and hoped that – if asked, She would catch on quick. She will. I may fault her morals, but I can't fault her intelligence. "I know real from plastic." He wasn't sure why the punk hadn't felt the difference, but then he'd never played those type of games. For all he knew, the weight and heft were similar enough to not be noticeable. Or maybe he was just too busy picking on that clerk to realize.

One of Sato's fellow police stepped to the door. "We'll start gathering evidence, Officer Sato. As soon as we've got some photos of the scene I'll have Yoshi remove the gun from the cable."

"Good. I'll be out in a minute to interview the other witnesses."

"How'd a real Ingram get out on the street here, anyway?" the policeman couldn't help asking. "In America, maybe, but in Tokyo?"

Shoji winced. Okay, so yes, American gun laws were more lax than they were in Japan, but it wasn't like every kid on the street could lay hands on an Ingram. He said as much, adding, "It would have had to be smuggled in, wouldn't it? I don't think the American forces here use that model."

Amusement colored the young woman's tone. "Goodness. You've barely been around Conan for half a day and you're already acting like one of the Detective Boys." She frowned then, looking worried. "I don't know, to be honest. There've been rumors of a gun-runner But those guns we confiscated were newer. The one out there is too old to be sold." She paused, looked annoyed with herself. "I really shouldn't be telling you that."

Unrepentantly, Shoji said, "Sorry. I just wondered."

Sato nodded. "Not your fault for being curious. Anyway I may have to ask you more questions, later, Shoji, but for now if you want to go back to your friends you can. How is your arm doing?"

I really wish she hadn't reminded me. Shoji had managed, somehow, to shove the pain in his broken arm aside up until now. The dull ache from jarred bone and muscle made him wince. "It hurts but I'll be okay," he answered. Sato looked doubtful but Shoji continued, "No, really. See, the cast kept it from getting hurt worse." He tapped on the cast and forced his face not to show how much doing so hurt. Have a feeling it's going to need to be reset. Joy. 'Dad' is just going to be thrilled to have to take me back to the hospital so soon. Not that he minded upsetting Her, but he was at her mercy right now. He didn't want her too irritated with him. Just in case.

"All right, then, Shoji. You go on out and wait."

Shoji wasted no time doing so.

PRESENT (Conan):
The police were setting up a tape in front of the building when a tall, slim and very pretty woman entered. Conan had seen her around before, the store manager, named Mrs. Kageshima, though she seemed to leave much of the actual management of the store to the senior clerk – her daughter Tatiana. Her expression was worried, and she spared an irritated glance at the young man who was leaning against the wall. Then she turned to look at Sato. "What, exactly, happened here?"

Conan wandered closer, half-listening to the explanation even as he eyed the crime scene. Sato's voice was quiet as she talked, telling the manager that someone had switched the game's controller for a real Ingram M11, which had then gone off when its would-be player had pulled the trigger. "It would have been disastrous no matter how you look at it," Sato continued, "But unfortunately, he had it aimed at one of your clerks" She paused to look at a notebook, "Taro Yamanori at the time. Thanks to the quick thinking of one of your other customers, though, the weapon was knocked off its aim in time. Only one bullet hit, and it creased Taro's skull instead of entering it. There's a good chance he'll survive."

"Oh! That's good to hear." The manager turned, glanced again at the punk sitting on the floor. "Stupid idiot. Now look what you've done, Hikari Soun!" The boy ignored her though, simply rocked back and forth, making small sobbing sounds.

From beside Conan, Shoji muttered, "If you can't walk the walk, don't talk the talk." He didn't say it very loudly, though, and Conan was fairly sure he was the only one who heard. Green eyes glanced his way, a curious gleam in them. "So, boss. Finding anything important?"

Conan couldn't help but blink at being called boss. "Uhm. How should I know? I'm just a kid. You're the one who watches CSI." Two could play the game of lies and cover-up, after all. The remark elicited a snort. "Do you see anything?"

A dark brow raised. Shoji eyed Conan with an expression that said he wasn't fooling anyone. However, "I'm not that sort of detective, though. I'm lousy at crime scene investigations. Not like your friends and you are. I just know guns and how to find trouble."

Even if Conan's growing suspicions of the boy were wrong, he couldn't help but agree that the last part was true. "So. If that's the case, why don't you tell me about this gun here?" He pointed at the Ingram that hung from the cable attached to the game. If there was an area of Conan's education that was a bit lacking it was military weaponry. He knew enough to know what he didn't know could be important.

"Mmmm. Army issue Ingram M10. A fairly old one, too, from the wear. May have had a plate attached there." Shoji pointed, carefully avoiding touching the weapon, at a pair of small holes drilled into the handle.

"M11, surely?" That startled Conan. He would have expected the weapon to match the game's supposed weapon in order to help the disguise. Though I suppose the killer may have just used what was available. And that begs another question, how did an assault weapon like this become available in Japan?

Shoji was shaking his head. "M11 has a longer cartridge and is a bit smaller. Most of the other differences are internal, though, so it's not easy to tell just by looking at it." He squatted, pointed at a shell casing on the floor. "This is what I don't like, though. That particular unit is at least ten years old, and worn. The bullets are one of the new, high powered brands. We're lucky it didn't blow up in that kid's face. Few more shots and it would have."

PRESENT (Shoji):
Shoji knew perfectly well what Conan was suspecting. But then, it wasn't part of his agenda to keep the kid from figuring him out. If anything She expected Conan to do so. Considering Her choice of names for me, it's not that hard to deduce. Given, of course, that you realize it's possible to go from twenty-six to two decades younger. That could be a problem, of course, if his real boss figured it out, but that was the risk She was taking. Me too, for that matter. Black isn't going to be happy when he finds out I'm cooperating with the enemy. Not happy at all. He just hoped he could talk his boss around if and when the time came.

The Detective Boys were arguing, returning Shoji's attention to the here and now. "It's obviously a terrorist," Mitsuhiko was saying. "Shoji said it was military hardware. You don't think a soldier came in and set it up, do you?" Shoji winced, shaking his head, and Mitsuhiko turned to him for support. "But it is military, right? I heard you say so."

"Yeah, Mitsuhiko, but terrorists blow up big things. Not itty bitty arcades in a Tokyo suburb." Talk about a big imagination. Shoji glanced at Ai, who was rolling her eyes behind Mitsuhiko's back. He couldn't really blame her, she never had suffered foolishness gladly. He continued, forcing himself to talk like another child, "Why'd a terrorist wanna do in some stupid clerk anyway?"

"Given what you say is true about the bullets is true, though," Conan mused, pacing around the area and eyeing the crime scene as much as he could without drawing attention, "It could just as easily have been the shooter who was the intended victim. Or perhaps both." He shook his head, adding. "Motivu, Metudo, Miins"

Something of Shoji's confusion must have shown in his face, because Ayumi took pity on him. "The three 'M's of murder. The reason a murder happens, what the murder uses to accomplish it and how the murderer gets the method and the victim together."

Great. Now I'm being lectured by a seven year old girl on crime solving. The truth was, though, that his skills had been geared towards hunting criminals down, not figuring out who the criminal was and accusing them. "What about psychos?" Shoji couldn't help asking. "They don't kill people for any reason."

Ai took her turn, "Not true. Even a psycho has a motive. The difficulty is figuring it out so you can predict their next victim." She glanced at Conan, who nodded. "Of course, motive isn't a good way to find a murderer, anyway. Some victims have so many enemies it's a wonder they haven't been stabbed, shot and poisoned all at once."

"So we gotta figure out how the murder was done, right Conan?" Genta chimed in. "Hey. Conan. Cooonnaaaan."

Apparently the lecture had bored Conan almost as much as it had bored Shoji. He'd wandered into the manager's office. Hmmm. That could be a problem for him. The kid had a lot of charisma and Officer Sato seemed to regard him with a certain amount of respect, but there had to be limits.

Somewhere behind Shoji he could hear Sato talking to the manager and the remaining two clerks. To his right were some uniformed cops, busily taking measurements and carefully examining the game machine. Further along the wall, one was trying, valiantly, to question Soun. With limited success. Kid's having a complete breakdown. Seeing Ran looking around as if trying to find someone, he trotted towards her. "Miss Ran? I gotta go potty."

The girl paused and looked down at Shoji. "It's up those stairs," she pointed, "First door on your left."

Shoji decided that pathos wasn't something he could do. Instead he told her gruffly, "Need help." He gestured at his left arm. "My pants." He tried very hard not to glare, not to show his embarrassment, particularly in the face of her obvious sympathy.

"Oh, I see. You can manage everything but the button, right?" Ran took his hand, glanced over her shoulder at Ai. "Would you find Conan for me? Tell him not to get in people's way."

"All right. Though I doubt I'll be all that successful," Ai answered, sourly. "You know how he is."

The sigh Ai's statement elicited was testimony to Ran's long experience with the little boy. Then she smiled down at Shoji. "Come along, Shoji."

Shoji just hoped Conan appreciated the sacrifice as she led him out of the room.

PRESENT (Conan):
Conan did indeed appreciate Shoji's quick distraction. He'd been half-expecting to have to hide under the desk or something when he'd heard Ran asking about him. That was the trouble with being seven or so years old in the eyes of the world. It made it really difficult to properly investigate things.

And it can't be easy for 'Sho-chan' either, he thought, scanning the room. If I'm right about him, that is. He had to be at least ten years older than we were. The trouble was, he couldn't very well ask outright. If he was right, Shoji knew who he was and possibly even whom Ai was. If he was right, Shoji was a victim of the same drug that had turned himself and Ai into small children. If he was right, he knew exactly whom Shoji had been before being transformed. And that doesn't make me feel any better, for all that he's supposedly on the side of the law. There's always been something not quite trustworthy about that man.

The main thing was that all of those ifs couldn't be easily proved unless Shoji outright admitted the truth. In which case it would be exceedingly stupid of Conan and Ai to admit it either. Stalemate. None of us dare admit a thing. Conan shook off the thoughts hurriedly, reminding himself that there was a case to solve.

"Whatcha find, Conan?" Ayumi, Genta, Mitsuhiko and Ai were standing in the doorway, all – even Ai – with identical expressions of annoyance. They hated it when he tried to handle things on his own. Which wouldn't have been so bad if they were all like he and Ai was, but they were kids for God's sake. If he could have kept them out of trouble he would have.

Recognizing the inevitable, however, Conan shook his head. "Nothing yet." Then again, there was one thing. That picture frame. Something's missing. He pointed. "I wonder what used to be in there with the other picture?"

Genta pulled a chair over to the wall and jumped up. "Huh? Whaddya mean, Conan?" He peered at the picture, a photo of the store's employees in a line. "Oh. Wait. It's faded differently in the upper left corner. A square shape." It rather pleased Conan that Genta had noticed after having it obliquely pointed out. He and the other two real children were learning quickly.

Excitedly, Mitsuhiko tried to see past Genta's large bulk. "Oh! Maybe it's a picture of the murderer!" As Conan winced over the rapid leap to conclusions the thinner boy tugged at Genta, demanding that he get out of the way.

"Hey! You kids get outta there!"

Conan sighed. Leave it to the rest of the Detective Boys to make enough ruckus to get the grownups' attention. Not even Officer Sato was going to put up with this blatant an interference with the investigation process. He ran out of the room, though, knowing better than to argue.

He'd just have to hope there weren't any real clues hiding in that room. Either that or wait for another moment to investigate further. In the meantime, there's the game machine.

PRESENT (Shoji):
He had to hand this much to Ran. She had the sense to recognize how little Shoji really wanted her help. She undid the button for him, held the door to the bathroom open, and let him manage the rest while standing out of sight outside the small room. "You should get pants with snaps, or something easier to manage, Shoji."

"My clothing from home got stolen off the plane," Shoji explained, using the excuse Vermouth had used when they'd gone shopping. "And we couldn't find anything with snaps on such short notice." It would have been easier if the school's dress code had allowed for proper jeans but comparatively easy-going though they were about clothing, there were limits. He came out, let Ran do up the button and went back to the sink to finish washing up, wincing a little at the little 'feminine' touches that decorated the room. He couldn't really blame the owners much though, apparently the upstairs were living quarters for the manager and her family, though the rest of their rooms were locked off from the stairway by a heavy metal door. "Thanks," he added, and noted that his tone was more than a bit grudging. "Er Sorry. It just makes me so mad, this arm."

In the mirror, Shoji could see Ran's nod. Rather to his relief, he didn't have to explain the whole thing again. He turned his attention to getting his hand cleaned, then frowned. Something was poking a small corner out from under the mirror. It wouldn't have been visible from an adult's height, but from his position it was clearly there. He reached up, used a fingernail to pull the thing out.

"Shoji, you shouldn't" Ran's scolding paused as he held up the thing that had been hidden behind the mirror. "What's that?"

'That' was a photo, two men in fatigues bearing the insignia of military field unit, standing in the desert sun in front of an Israeli tank. No. Not two men. One of those is a woman. The manager. He said as much, half-forgetting that he was supposed to be a small child. "Looks like a clue to me."

Ran sighed. "What is it about Conan that causes kids to turn into little detectives?" she wondered aloud. Still, she obviously agreed with Shoji's assessment, because she took the photo between her fingers delicately, avoiding touching the surface. Which was good, Shoji thought, because photo material took fingerprints beautifully.

Heading downstairs, Shoji spotted Conan squatting beside the game machine, watching the policeman who was detaching the Ingram with that intent gaze. Ran made an irritated sound. "Conan, don't bother the nice policeman."

"But."

"Conan."

"It's alright, Miss Ran. He isn't in the way." The policeman smiled up at Ran, clearly amused at his audience. Not for the first time Shoji marveled at Conan's skill at convincing the adults around him that his curiosity was merely the understandable interest of a small child. Not to mention convincing them to cater to that curiosity.

Conan smiled charmingly up at Ran, giving Shoji a clue as to how the boy got his way around his old friend. Everything he'd seen of the pair up until now told him that Ran – all proofs aside – still harbored the odd suspicion of Conan. If nothing else, the boy's resemblance to her 'missing' friend must have made it hard for her to refuse him something he obviously enjoyed, if only because she missed Kudo Shin'ichi.

Ran shook herself, obviously reminding herself of the case at hand, and took the photo Shoji had found over to Sato. As the two spoke, Conan tried to peer at the photo, hopping up and down in a way that nearly caused Shoji to forget himself and start laughing. The small snort that did escape his lips was enough, though, to elicit a glare from the small detective and he shrugged apologetically. "Uhm. Could Conan see?" he asked. "It's not like it'd hurt if he just looks at it, would it?"

PRESENT (Conan):
Torn between irritation at Shoji's help and curiosity over what had been found, Conan contented himself with shooting another sour look at the taller boy before peering at the photo that Officer Sato obligingly turned to show him. That was one of the nice things about Sato. She might not always approve of the Detective Boys' tendency to find trouble, but she paid attention to what he said. Often it meant that he didn't even have to bother with his sleeping darts, because a few well-chosen questions from him usually put her on the right track.

Well chosen questions like, "Oh. Doesn't the Israeli Army use Ingrams? They're in one of the fields in that game, after all." The weapon was the biggest clue to the murderer would-be murderer, he hoped after all. An Ingram of any sort simply wasn't the kind of thing one would expect to find casually lying around.

Mrs. Kageshima was looking at the picture with a startled expression that quickly shifted to complete blankness. "Oh. That. I was a Red Cross volunteer in Israel when I was younger. How'd you get it from my picture frame?"

As Ran explained where the picture had been found, Conan mulled over the case. The photo provided a clue as to where the Ingram might have come, though he wasn't sure yet how the manager could have gotten the thing into Japan. Then there was the incorrect bullet types. Was that because the murderer didn't care who was hurt, or because they were simply ignorant?

Officer Sato was returning to her questioning, having determined that the photo – while possibly important – wasn't going to solve the case for her. Conan listened carefully, analyzing reactions as the manager explained that her husband, a mercenary in Israel, had once owned an Ingram similar to the one used in the crime. "But I left it behind when my daughter," she pointed off at the teenage girl working the counter, "and I came back to Japan. After her father was killed."

Sato nodded. "I see. Well, it's unfortunate – but not unexpected – that the serial number has been scraped off." She gestured at the weapon being placed on a nearby counter to be photographed more carefully. "Otherwise I'd ask you to check if you had a record of it."

The manager shrugged. "I doubt I'd have it on hand anyway. I've tried to put that time of my life behind me."

Still listening, Conan drifted towards the game, eyeing the cable hanging from it, as well as the young man still seated against the wall. Hikari Soun was still upset, shaking like a leaf over the whole matter. It seemed strange to Conan that the boy would react that strongly and he wondered if perhaps it was over-acting. His explanation of his behavior had been suspicious too, even though the employees had confirmed that he'd had a habit of play shooting the game's controller at the clerk who'd been injured. Apparently the two had a long history of arguing and fussing at each other. This despite a friendship that had led to the clerk often letting him stay after closing hours to play on the Ingram.

"I didn't really like him doing it, of course, but he only let Hikari stay until he was finished with cleaning up. I didn't want Taro having to walk home by himself and though Hikari's a brat and a thug he always took care of Taro." The manager shot the youngster another sour look. "I don't know what Taro sees in him, though."

Officer Sato turned to look at the young man. "That's enough, boy. Get on your feet."

Hikari looked up, face red and raw from crying. No. That isn't acting. A gang-leader like him wouldn't dare let everyone see him like this unless he simply couldn't control it. If what the manager said was true and Hikari was Taro's friend, though, the shock of nearly killing the other boy might be enough to push a rather overwrought personality over the edge.

Somehow the boy got to his feet, forced himself to stand straight. "What what do you want?"

"Didn't you notice the controller had changed?"

"I dunno. Maybe. I was fighting with Taro. He wanted me to do something and I didn't want to do it."

"What did he want you to do?" The question caused the boy to bristle and Sato raised a warning brow. "And before you tell me that it isn't my business, keep in mind that you may have had as much opportunity as anyone else in this store to change the controller, since your friend apparently let you in when it was closed."

Angrily, Hikari glared at the policewoman, red dyed hair standing practically on end. "What? You think I did it? I only ever saw one other real Ingram in my life!" His shout died down as he realized what he'd just admitted. "Oh God I didn't. I swear"

Brow raised even further, Sato gazed levelly at the boy. "Then perhaps you'd care to explain just how it was you have seen anything of the sort?"

Stammering, staring from face to face, Hikari stumbled backwards. Only another voice, that of the manager's daughter, broke through his desperate attempts to backtrack. "I showed it to him."

To Be Continued...